Stolen Time
by DracoDurmiendo
Summary: Despite dementors and an escaped convict, Hermione is determined for her third year to be perfect! She has her secret weapon all ready to go - but what will she do when Draco discovers her secret and tries to blackmail her? A story of bruises, secrets, time travel, and a hidden room. PoA compliant, slow build Dramione.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm not that brilliant.

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first foray into writing fanfiction, so... ta-da! I've had this story idea for a long time, and I finally feel comfortable enough to post it. Even if no one reads this (although I sincerely hope you will!) I'm still very proud of this story. It is meant to be a very realistic take on Draco and Hermione getting together because, let's face it, they belong together! There are just so many obstacles in their way that some fics overlook - I wanted to tackle those in a way that is as true to the original plot as possible. As such, this fic will be very, VERY close to the original plot of POA, and then it will veer a bit as the characters evolve. I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!

Chapter One

The dining room was an impressive sight to behold for those who weren't already accustomed to it. The dark mahogany table ran almost the full length of the colossal room. The straight-backed chairs were adorned with rich, textured fabrics. They were the type of expensive furnishing that bespoke power and poise but offered little comfort. The ceilings towered high above, with intricate details carved into the molding. Three grandiose chandeliers hung imperiously above the table, and even their combined brightness did nothing to lighten the mood of the room.

Lucius Malfoy sat at the head of the imposing table. His chair was even taller than the others, as if to imply that he was King, and the rest of the table's occupants existed to serve him. Narcissa Malfoy sat to her husband's left, her bearing one of almost severe elegance. She was undeniably beautiful, but she seemed rigid and unmoving despite her obvious grace.

Draco Malfoy sat to the right of his father. His pale face and pale hair contrasted abruptly with the dark decor surrounding him. He somehow managed to slump in the austere chair, as if he had never managed to figure out how he was supposed to fit. His father, who had been diligently reading the Daily Prophet, flicked his eyes over to Draco. Scrutinizing the boy's posture, he cleared his throat loudly, accusingly. The sound almost tangibly cut through the tense silence, and Draco's hand flew reflexively to his left side.

He shot up straight in his seat, keeping his face carefully blank. After a moment, Lucius returned his attention to the paper. Draco subtly let out his breath.

Narcissa, to banish the uneasy silence, inquired, "Have you finished packing, Draco?"

"Yes, mother," he replied.

"Good, dear. We will leave promptly at 10:15. Is there anything else you need before you go? I can always send Dobb-" she cut short, eyes flicking to her husband before she corrected herself, "-one of the house elves to fetch whatever you require."

"No, mother."

"Well, if anything comes up, we can owl it to you," she stated primly. Another few minutes passed in silence.

Draco quietly moved his food around on his plate, not actually eating anything.

Finally, Lucius folded the Prophet shut and stood. Narcissa and Draco followed, and they all departed from the room without another word.

Platform 9 ¾ was bustling as usual. Draco quickly spotted Crabbe and Goyle. He gave his parents a formal farewell and turned to leave, only to have his father grab his shoulder. If anyone happened to look over at that moment, they wouldn't have seen the force Lucius used as he subtly ground his thumb into a pressure point on his son's back. Draco winced. Not because of the pain.

Spinning him round so they faced each other, Lucius spoke, his lips hardly moving as he drawled: "Understand this, Draco. You _will_ comport yourself appropriately this term. Our family is under particular scrutiny from the ministry after last year's debacle. If I find out that you have drawn any negative attention to my name, however inconsequential, you will be swiftly dealt with. I won't have all my hard work to repair my reputation undone by your idiotic, adolescent whims. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," Draco affirmed, schooling his features into the impassive mask that was ingrained in him.

Appeased, Lucius released his son's shoulder and stepped back. Draco nodded towards his father, gave his mother the barest of smiles, and made his leave.

He caught Crabbe and Goyle's attention and boarded the scarlet train with them in tow. Even though they were just starting their third year, the two other boys were already massive. Using their superior bulk to their advantage, they threw a couple of first years out of a compartment and lumbered inside. Draco followed and sat down just as the train lurched forward. Only when the platform was out of sight did he finally allow himself to relax.

He was finally going back. Back to the only place he felt comfortable, the only place he really belonged. He was free.

Draco walked into the Great Hall the next day with all the superiority that his perfect breeding afforded him. He sat at his usual place at the Slytherin table, surrounded by Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, and began piling his plate with eggs and toast. His impressions of Potter fainting on the train had gotten such a good reaction at the welcome feast the night before, he thought he'd give it another go this morning. He wasn't disappointed.

After a few minutes, he got his time-table from Professor Snape, who regarded him with a subtle nod, and he immediately began to complain about how many of his classes were shared with the bloody Gryffindors. He glared across the hall to the far table which was covered in scarlet and gold.

"They're like a plague! Honestly!" he sneered, "Or maybe an infestation. I'm sure that I could have father donate some gold and get someone to clear up the problem. I've heard exterminators can do wonders with gnomes; Gryffindors can't be much more intelligent."

Pansy tittered to his left, shooting him an admiring look through her heavy lashes. The attention bolstered him.

Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't exactly friends, but they were the closest thing that Draco had to the word. Truth be told, they were more like followers than friends. They typically did as he asked, and he reveled in the control he felt at their obedience.

Across the hall, he saw three heads turn towards him, glaring. McGonagall was walking away from them, shuffling through the parchment in her hands. From the look of things, Potter, Weasley, and Granger were no happier about their time-tables than he was. He leered back at them, noting how ridiculous Granger's hair looked. How had she still not managed to tame it? She looked like she had been raised by a herd of wild centaurs and only just decided to live indoors and become civilized. How could she bear to appear so unkempt?

"Draco?"

 _Ridiculous_ , he thought. A Malfoy would never be caught looking so disheveled. It was inappropriate - unspeakable. It was... vulnerable. She just seemed so... unaffected. Exposed. How could she _stand_ it?

"Draco!"

He was roused from his musings by Pansy's elbow in his ribs.

"AAGH!" he howled, almost falling backwards off the bench to escape her. His hand flew to his tender left side.

"Oh! Draco, are you okay?" she simpered. To his right, Goyle snickered quietly. Draco glared at the larger boy and quickly stood.

"Merlin, Pansy! Keep your hands to yourself!" he barked.

"You were ignoring me!" she stated petulantly.

"Well you might just have to get used to it if you insist on injuring me constantly!" And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the Hall.

A minute later, he ducked into the boy's lavatory. Gingerly unbuttoning his shirt, he inspected the dark, angry bruise that marred the pale skin on his lower ribs. The center was a deep purple that faded out to an array of maroons, greens, and yellows. It wouldn't have been beautiful if it hadn't been so morbid.

There hadn't been a chance to examine it before he left the manor. He squinted his eyes shut against the memory of acquiring it. Letting out a shaky breath, he brought out his wand and began muttering, struggling to perform the correct movements at such an awkward angle. The healing spell helped slightly, but did little to vanish the blemish. Just like all the other times he'd tried to cast the charm.

Sighing, he pulled his shirt back into place and refastened the buttons. He turned his attention to the mirror and tucked in the loose shirttails, straightened his green-and-black striped tie, and repositioned his robes on his shoulders. Then he stood up straight, lifted his chin, wrapped his cold, indifferent demeanor around himself like a cloak, and sauntered out the door.

Hermione could hardly contain her excitement. A brand-new year! She stared fondly down at her time-table, her hand unconsciously feeling for the necklace that hung beneath her robes. It was still there; its reassuring weight was uplifting, invigorating. She allowed herself a private smile. Whoever said that no one can have it all had obviously never met Hermione Granger. This year was going to be _perfect_.

Okay, maybe it wasn't entirely flawless. She hadn't imagined that her perfect year would include a horde of Dementors floating macabrely around the outskirts of the school grounds. There was also the issue of the escaped murderer they sought. And Harry had fainted on the train…

Okay, fine. It was off to a rough start. But she wasn't going to let anything keep her from fully enjoying this year. The challenge was thrilling. The opportunity was mouth-watering. She was going to be able to learn _so much_.

She just realized that Ron had been speaking to her for the last minute or so.

"…I mean, I know the Slytherins have to learn somewhere, but do they have to be in the same classes with us? Surely the teachers know that it would just be easier to leave them down in the dungeons!" A broad, dreamy smile spread across his freckled face, "Yeah, the dungeons would be great!" Seeing his goofy grin, Hermione couldn't help but smile fondly as well.

"Yeah, that'd be great!" added Harry, "Maybe Filch will be so sentimental about having students in the dungeons again that he'd start stringing them up by their toes like he used to in the old days!"

Ron tried to stifle his sniggering as Professor McGonagall brushed past them. "But Dumbledore _probably_ wouldn't stand for it," he said sarcastically once his laughter was under control, "So we have to deal with bloody Malfoy and his bloody face."

At that moment, he turned to glare behind him at the Slytherin table. Hermione and Harry followed his example. Malfoy seemed to sense their stares, as he quickly locked eyes with them, expression darkening. Eventually, Harry and Ron turned back around and finished wolfing down their sausages and fried tomatoes. Hermione rolled her eyes at Malfoy and resumed studying her time-table. She needed to memorize it as soon as possible. _No_ , she thought, _I won't_ let anything stop me from having a perfect year.

 _A/N So here it is - the first chapter! I know it's starting a little slow - I swear it will pick up soon. I just had to set the stage and give a bit of insight into Draco's situation. What are your thoughts? I'd love to know how my first attempt is going so far!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I realized that the site took away some of my formatting that separated sections in Chapter 1 – Hopefully I've fixed it so that everything is clearer now :)_

 _A very special thank you to Dancing-Souls and 1 – you are my very first reviewers ever! Thank you so much for taking the time to tell me what you thought about the first chapter. You're awesome!_

 _I'm just so excited about this story and finally getting it out there. This chapter has a bit of movie and book mixed in, though I try to stick mostly to the books. There's a lot from Draco's perspective; I figure that you guys already know what's going on in Harry and Ron's heads, and you mostly know what's happening with Hermione. I wanted to give my own account of everything that we_ haven't _seen… so here it is! Let me know what you guys think!_

Chapter 2

Draco laughed derisively, taunting Potter from under the black hood of his robes. Crabbe and Goyle were guffawing on either side of him. The scar-head looked like he was ready to hex them, which only made Draco laugh harder. Potter fainting on the train was the best thing to happen in months.

"Leave it, Harry. He's not worth it," Granger said, pulling Potter back. Malfoy stopped laughing, suddenly angry. He was about to open his mouth to retort when the great oaf Hagrid – there was no way he was going to call him _professor_ – began their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

Draco watched as Potter became the center of attention, again. _Stupid git_. He hoped that the hippogriff would just bite the head off the Boy-Who-Lived. The hippogriff made a sudden movement – but then stopped. Damn.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw that Granger had grabbed hold of Weasley's hand. She then seemed to realize what she had done and quickly dropped her hold. Both blushed furiously. Draco eyed them, nose wrinkled in disgust.

People were clapping. He turned his attention back to Potter and watched as the hippogriff took off with Potter on its back. Draco rolled his eyes; the stupid bird-brain couldn't even kill the prat properly.

After a few minutes of nauseating blathering, Potter landed back in the clearing. Almost the entire class burst into cheers. Weasley clapped him jovially on the back, and Granger threw her arms around his neck. Draco had had quite enough. Potter had somehow made everyone forget about his embarrassing little fainting spell in a matter of moments. That was unacceptable. He had to do something about it.

A few moments later, Draco found himself lying on the grass, holding his arm to his chest.

"I'm dying!" he yelled, "Look at me, it's killed me!"

Hagrid was shouting something, but he couldn't make sense of the words. Numbly, Draco realized that the giant oaf was picking him up, and he was thankful that he had landed on his uninjured side. In the chaos of their departure, he saw Granger staring after him, concern evident on her face. He thought he heard her say, "Do you think he'll be all right?" before she was obscured by Hagrid's massive form.

~.~

Draco sighed. He lay on an uncomfortable cot in the hospital wing. Beside him, Pansy was twittering on, but he wasn't paying much attention. He was just relieved that she was no longer dwelling on his outburst from that morning.

"...ridiculous that they let him teach in the first place! I think Dumbledore is officially going senile. I can't wait to see what your father does to him when he finds out!"

Draco stiffened. He hadn't thought of that. His father's words on the platform rung in his ears, and the ache from his bruised ribs seemed to magnify.

Suddenly, Madame Pomfrey appeared beside them, a stern look on her face.

"Miss Parkinson, Mr. Malfoy needs to rest. You, however, are perfectly well enough to go down to the Great Hall for dinner."

Pansy huffed, but turned to gather her things. She gave Draco one last simpering look before disappearing through the doors.

Madame Pomfrey inspected the large gashes on his arm and swiftly changed the bandages. He supposed he should be grateful that it was only his arm that was injured; he shuddered to think what would happen if the old woman saw his discolored chest.

"There you are, Mr. Malfoy," she said brusquely. Draco inspected his bandaged arm; it tingled slightly, and a cool sensation swept across his skin in waves. Whatever the healer had applied, it was working wonders.

"Now, get some rest," she ordered, turning to put her supplies away, "I don't want to see you out of bed until I'm certain that you're well enough. You've been excused from your lessons, and your parents, along with the school governors, have already been informed of the incident. You have nothing to worry about."

Had Madame Pomfrey been facing him, she would have noticed how he suddenly went rigid. Instead, the old woman turned towards a small bedside table, oblivious to the boy, and waved her wand. A plate of sandwiches appeared.

She continued bustling about for a few more minutes before instructing him to eat and disappearing into a side room.

Draco was alone. He gulped, trying to force down the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. His father knew. His father would be angry. Suddenly nauseated, Draco turned away from the sandwiches, trying to find a more comfortable position despite his injuries. He was unsuccessful.

Eventually, he drifted off. Despite his desperate need for rest, he slept fitfully, shifting constantly as he slumbered. Although hours passed as he dozed, the crease between his eyebrows never fully smoothed itself out.

~.~

Draco woke. Why was he awake? He had finally managed to find a pocket of sleep.

 _Tap, tap, tap_.

He opened a heavy eyelid, taking in the eerie darkness of the early morning. He wasn't in his dormitory. The bed he was lying on was definitely not his; it was far too uncomfortable.

 _Tap. TAP, TAP_!

He looked towards the source of the noise. Outside the window nearest his bed was a pair of wide, yellow eyes. Suddenly he remembered: the hippogriff, the hospital wing, his _father_. He sprung out of bed and ran to the window, flinging it open. The great horned owl swooped inside, snapping at him as it passed. It landed on a small table and eyed him disparagingly with its yellow orbs. The tufts of feathers protruding from its head reminded Draco of a cat with its ears back. Everything about the bird screamed disapproval, just like the man who sent it.

Draco gulped and reached for the parchment tied to the owl's leg. As soon as it was free, the creature screeched and took off again, soaring into the blackness outside. Draco ignored it, opening the letter with shaky fingers, and read his father's severe script:

 _Draco,_

 _I thought that you and I had an understanding. Yet, I find that on the first day of lessons, you have disobeyed me. Luckily for you, your maneuver was quite advantageous. Discrediting the oaf and simultaneously abasing the senile old man who hired him - I did not expect such cunning from you. Perhaps you are more like me than I presumed._

 _I shall use this opportunity to bring the ministry down on the half-blood oaf as well as Dumbledore; this will certainly prove that his judgment is skewed. I will remind the ministry that Malfoy is a name of power and purity, while disgraceful half-breeds like Hagrid only seek to bastardize our civilized society._

 _You have done well, son. I will forgive your insolence in light of the profitable circumstances. However, you would do well to understand your position. Your actions were beneficial this time, but you will refrain from further interference. I hope, for your sake, that my meaning is clear._

 _Father_

Draco let out his breath. Relief flooded him as he read the words. His father had been... _proud_ of him. His chest swelled at the thought. The threat at the end still hung heavy on his shoulders, but at the moment, it was overshadowed. _You have done well, son._ Draco smiled. He lay back in the cot and allowed his familiar, superior smirk to replace the smile. He would continue to make his father proud.

~.~

Draco didn't return to classes until late Thursday morning. Technically, he could have left the hospital wing sooner, but he wanted to give his father as much ammunition as possible. He had stayed longer, bemoaning the pain he was in, insisting that he lacked full range of motion in his mangled arm. Madame Pomfrey indulged him at first, but finally grew tired enough to banish him from the wing.

So, he returned, sauntering into the Great Hall amidst the cheers from the Slytherins. Pansy's attentions were delightful; she lamented his injuries and raged at Hagrid. She was constantly stroking his uninjured arm as well as his ego, and Draco simply soaked it in. Often, he would send gloating looks across the hall towards a certain trio of Gryffindors, savoring their indignant reactions.

Lessons were almost as satisfying as meal times. He still wore a sling, useless though it was. He even got Professor Snape to bully Potter and Weasley into doing his work in Potions. He reveled in the scar-head's misery while shooting a triumphant look at his Head of House, who smirked back at him. Yes, this year was shaping up to be delightful. His good mood wasn't even dampened when the shabby new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor informed him that he would have to make up the first lesson on boggarts.

During the next few days, Draco continued to revel in the attentions of the Slytherins as he told and retold the tale of his "brush with death". He attended his lessons and generally took advantage of his injured state. He used every opportunity to snub his nose at Potter, Weasley, and Granger. Simply put, he couldn't have been happier.

The weekend came and went, bringing Monday in its wake. Draco, however, decided that he needed a bit of a lie-in. He skived off his first class, Transfiguration, claiming that his arm was bothering him again and he'd needed to see Madame Pomfrey. He was just strolling towards the Arithmancy classroom, wondering if he'd have enough time to seek out some first years to bully. He'd just read about a new hex that he was itching to test out. But when he turned a corner, he saw something rather odd: a head of bushy, brown hair emerging from what appeared to be a broom cupboard. He quickly stepped back behind the corner and watched as she closed the door and tucked something beneath her robes. What in the world was Granger up to?

As soon as she disappeared around the next corner - _She must be on her way to Arithmancy as well_ \- Draco made his way to the broom cupboard and opened the door. Peering inside, he saw nothing abnormal; mops, buckets, dust pans, and dust all stood together in the dingy room. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he eased the door shut. He knew the bookworm was odd, but this made no sense. He'd have to keep an eye on the situation.

Over the next week, he tried to catch Granger doing… whatever it was she had been doing in the cupboard. He'd arrived in the hallway as early as he could, but never met with much success as he came straight from Transfiguration. He thought about skiving off again, but McGonagall seemed to have lost her patience with his "I almost got my arm taken off by a Hippogriff" excuse. Apparently, he'd overused it, and as much as he was loath to admit it, the old woman's icy stare rather intimidated him.

On the following Tuesday, however, he had a bit of luck. He was heading to Ancient Runes when he saw Peeves bouncing down the hallway swinging a gigantic bucket of wriggling _somethings_. Not wanting to find out exactly what was in the bucket, he ducked into an alcove and hid behind a suit of armor. Thankfully, the poltergeist whizzed by, oblivious to Draco's presence. He was about to reemerge into the corridor when, seemingly out of nowhere, Granger appeared. Draco started; he hadn't seen her in the hallway before. He'd been alone. He could have sworn it. There were no classrooms in the hall, and there was no way that Peeves would simply pass by such a perfect little victim, was there?

He watched as she peered around, then adjusted her robes, and started down the hall. Silently, Draco slunk out from behind the suit of armor and leaned lazily against the wall.

"And just where do you think you're going, Mudblood?" he drawled, trying to appear aloof.

Granger let out a gasp and spun around sharply. Upon realizing who had addressed her, she narrowed her eyes and raised her chin slightly.

"Not that it's any of your business, _Malfoy_ ," she spat his surname like it tasted of bile, "but I'm going to Ancient Runes."

"I see…" he hissed. He pushed off the wall and sauntered towards her menacingly, "…and just where were you coming _from_ then?"

Her eyes widened slightly, flicking towards a stretch of blank wall and then back to him. He was definitely on to something.

"I don't know what you mean," she sniffed, "I came from breakfast, same as you."

"You're hiding something," he stated, "You've always been a shitty liar."

Her eyes hardened, and she opened her mouth to respond, but he took another step forward and cut her off: "But don't worry, Granger; I'll find out."

With a flare of his robes, he brushed past her, leaving her rooted to the spot.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N - Hi everyone! So sorry it took so long to post this chapter. Life has not been very fun lately – my husband had to have emergency surgery (he's okay now, thank God), and then there was a death in my family. But I'm back and I finally have enough energy and time to post this! Thanks to everyone who has read, followed, and reviewed the story so far. I hope you enjoy chapter 3 - let me know what you think about it!_

Chapter 3

Three Slytherins were walking down the hallway towards the Arithmancy classroom when a small thump and clatter sounded from somewhere behind them. Draco stopped and glanced around; there was no one else in sight. Crabbe and Goyle made it almost to the end of the hallway before they realized their leader was no longer by their sides.

"Oi, you comin', Draco?" mumbled Crabbe.

"Yeah," Draco replied, catching up to the two larger boys as they entered the classroom. What was that noise? It sounded like someone had been in - _the broom cupboard!_ The same one where he'd seen Granger skulking around! He kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. Looking around wildly, he didn't find her head full of bushy hair anywhere in the classroom.

This was it! This was his chance to finally figure out what she was up to! _  
_  
"Shit, I just realized I left my homework in the dormitories," Draco lied quickly to Crabbe and Goyle, "Go on, I'll catch up."

The two bodyguards simply shrugged and slumped into their seats. Turning on the spot, Draco tore out of the classroom. When he came to the correct hallway, he slowed to a walk and looked around, ensuring he was alone. Slinking up beside the door, he took a deep breath and wrenched it open.

Empty?

He could have sworn the sound he heard came from in here.

 _No matter,_ he thought, _She's bound to come here before class. I'm certain she has before! I'll just have to wait for her._

He moved forward, then paused. Was he, with his pristine robes, really about to enter a dusty cupboard to wait for some stupid Mudblood? Not _wait for_ , no. Of course not. _Ambush_. To _ambush_ a Mudblood. Yes, that was much more reasonable. Taking out his wand, he glanced around again to ensure no one could see him. Finding himself very much alone, he stole into the broom cupboard.

It was larger inside than he would have imagined. Perfect - he would be out of sight when she appeared. Ignoring the musty scent of old mops and mildew, he focused on calming his breathing so he wouldn't immediately give himself away.

A silent minute passed.

Suddenly, a slight form – one that he would recognize anywhere – obscured what little light drifted in from the crack under the door.

 _What?! How did she get inside without opening the door?  
_  
Quickly, before she could escape, he took a small step closer and said, " _Lumos_."

The shriek that the young witch emitted was comical, pathetic. She whipped around to face him in the bright white light from his wand, clutching the pendant of her necklace. "Malfoy!"

He merely smirked triumphantly at her.

"Wh-what are you doing in the broom cupboard?" she squeaked out.

"One might ask you that same question," he said silkily, "I believe you've been in here several times this year, Granger. I've seen you leave, but strangely enough, I've never seen you enter. Not even when I was inside, waiting for you. Now how is that possible?"

She seemed to regain some of her bearings. "I don't see why it's any of your business!" she snapped defensively.

He saw her knuckles whiten as she tightened her fist around - _what is she holding?_

"I'm making it my business, Granger. Did the dim-witted Weasel finally irritate you so much that you've taken to hiding from him?"

Her eyes narrowed, and her hand twitched towards her wand. As she opened her mouth to retort, Draco took advantage of her distraction and made a grab for the object in her grasp. Granger reacted quicker than he would have thought, but he still managed to wrestle the pendant away from her.

"What the bloody Hell is this?" he demanded, fingerings the small, golden object. The long chain was still wrapped around her neck.

"Don't touch it!" she squeaked, but even as she spoke, the pendant shifted slightly under his fingers. The air seemed to swirl around them for a brief moment, then it stopped. He looked around. Nothing appeared to have happened. How odd. He definitely felt something strange but couldn't immediately identify anything different about the cupboard; it was still damp and dark and smelled of mold. Then he heard a faint sound from outside the door. Footsteps going past?

"OOF!"

Granger had shoved him unceremoniously into the wall of the cupboard, yanking her necklace out of his hands and making him drop his wand with a clatter. Everything went dark. Furious, he started to snap at her when her hand slapped over his mouth, halting the insult on his lips. It unnerved him to feel her that close.

But then he heard it - muffled voices from the hallway outside. Was that Crabbe's voice? And then he heard something even more strange - he could have sworn he heard his _own_ voice responding to Crabbe. He froze, listening intently. Eventually, the footsteps retreated down the hallway.

"Come on!" she whispered furiously.

Light spilled into the small closet as she cracked open the door. Draco snatched up his fallen wand. Granger peeked her head outside, then roughly grabbed his arm and yanked him down the hallway, in the opposite direction of their classroom. Mere seconds after they turned the corner, he heard what sounded like the cupboard door being pulled sharply open on its hinges.

She continued to drag him quietly and quickly through the corridors - turning down a narrow path and then up a steep staircase - until he finally stopped short, extracting his arm from her grip.

"What the Hell, Granger?!" he demanded petulantly. He took in his surroundings, trying to figure out where the mad witch had dragged him. They were far away from the Arithmancy classroom now. He recognized a suit of armor in the middle of the otherwise empty corridor. It was the same corridor where he had confronted her only days before. They were close to the Ancient Runes classroom. Had they really come so far so quickly?

"Damn it, you crazy bint! Where have you taken me?" he exclaimed rather louder than he intended.

"Shh! Just - come here!" she walked determinedly towards the blank stretch of wall opposite the suit of armor. Taking out her wand, she tapped a small, round-ish stone.

 _Merlin's pants, she's completely off her rocker!_

But then, to his great surprise, the stone gave a shudder and transformed into a doorknob. Granger turned it, and suddenly an abnormally-shaped hole appeared in the previously solid wall. He gawked openly at her. She turned, grabbed him yet again by the arm, and shoved him into the room beyond.

They both stood there for a moment, panting and trying to regain their breath after running so far. Draco was glad for the chance to collect his thoughts. What had just happened? He glanced again at the pendant that still hung on Granger's neck. It looked like a small hourglass-

And everything clicked.

"Where in the world did you get a Time-Turner, Granger?"

She froze.

Yes, of course! They had just been running from _him,_ when he went to search out the source of the sound he heard! But that would mean - the thump that came from the closet must have been when Granger shoved him against the wall! And there was also a clatter - his dropped wand. It all made sense.

Her eyes flicked towards him, then returned to stare in front of her.

"My schedule is very full this year..." she admitted, trying to sound nonchalant, "There was only one way for me to attend all of the classes I want to take."

"Ah, I see," he replied knowingly, a wicked half-smile appearing on his pale face. "Surely, the teachers must know," he drawled, "You're too much of a bloody brown-noser to break the law, even if it is to attend more classes. How _trustworthy_ they must think you are, Granger," he said sardonically. She snorted.

"That's the best insult you can think of, Malfoy? Mocking my how responsible I am?" she returned, throwing the full weight of her haughty disdain into her stare. "If you must know, I have special permission from the ministry to use it!"

Ignoring her, he continued, "But I assume that there were some pretty stringent stipulations on this little privilege... Potter and Weasley don't seem to know about it, so I'm guessing that no one is supposed to find out."

He smirked as her defiant glare faltered slightly. "I wonder what would happen to your precious schedule if, I don't know, the whole of Slytherin house discovered your little secret? Actually, no. It would be much more satisfying to let the Ravenclaws in on this blatant show of favoritism. Imagine their faces when they find out that a buck-toothed Gryffindor was given such a rare tool for academic advancement over one of them? I would so enjoy watching how that played out..."

All the blood seemed to have drained from Granger's face. Whether this resulted from the thought of a whole house hating her or disobeying a ministry command, he wasn't certain. Her eyes, which had widened in slight horror, narrowed again.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" she demanded.

"Well..." he paused, as if considering, "I suppose I could be convinced to keep quiet..."

"What could you possibly want from me?! I highly doubt that anything I have will be of use to you, you pompous git!"

She actually had a point. What did he want from her? He obviously couldn't let her know that he had no idea what he was doing. Keeping his superior, knowing facade in place, he replied, "Then you will just have to owe me. If you don't have anything I want, then we'll deal in favors instead - whatever I say, whenever I say."

She balked. "I will do nothing for you!"

"And risk exposing your secret? No, I don't think you can really consider that, can you?" It wasn't a question.

Granger paused for a long moment, glaring at him. He supposed that she was trying to size him up. He held her gaze, not wanting to appear weak by looking away. There was definitely intelligence in her eyes behind the anger. Of course, he had known that. It was glaringly obvious, just like the stubbornness that poured out of her. And there was something in the way she set her jaw - pride. Yes, she could call him pompous all she wanted, but he knew that they were more alike in that manner than she could admit.

 _More alike?_ Had he really just thought that about _her_ , Potter's annoying best friend? He barely contained the surprise that he felt at his inner musings and redoubled his efforts to match her stubborn stare.

Something in her eyes changed minutely.

"Fine!" she said waspishly, "You will get _one_ favor, but I want to know exactly what it is before I accept. I will not allow you to order me around blindly, and I most certainly will not do anything that will break the law or any school rules. And in return, you will mention this to absolutely no one. You will never speak of it again! Is that understood?"

He glowered at her. "I'd don't think I like your tone, Granger," Draco said coolly. She might be able to boss around the two nitwits she called friends, but she certainly could not order him around.

She rolled her eyes, "Well, what do you expect? You're blackmailing me!"

"Oh, it's not blackmail," he said smoothly, "I believe, for it to be formally considered blackmail, it has to be in writing. This is just a... mutually beneficial arrangement. But I rather think my silence is worth _three_ favors, especially if I'm not allowed to do anything _fun_."

"THREE?!" she screeched indignantly.

"You're not really in a position to negotiate, Granger. Do you agree to my terms?" He held out his hand.

After a tense moment, she seemed to deflate a little. "You won't tell anyone?" she confirmed, still glaring at him.

"Not a soul, as long as you hold up your end," he warned.

She reached out and shook his hand. The moment her skin made contact with his, he felt a jolt run through him - from his fingertips all the way to his chest. Momentarily bewildered, he kept hold of her hand, trying to understand the sensation. Then he realized that he had maintained the contact for far longer than necessary. She was staring at him, obviously confused, with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. He jumped back from her, wiping his hand on his robes.

"Well, uh…" he stuttered, trying to regain his composure, his control, "I'll, erm, let you know when I'm ready to cash in my favors."

She nodded, her curious expression unchanged.

He turned and left the room as quickly and with as much dignity as he could. What _was_ that? He definitely should not have felt - whatever _that_ was - when touching _her_... Why had he even initiated the contact in the first place?

No. No, there was nothing special about what happened. He simply saw an opportunity to take advantage of the stupid girl, and he took it. Nothing was out of place. He was still the same cunning Slytherin, finding ways to advance himself at all costs. Nothing had changed.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer – Everything belongs to Rowling. I'm just writing in her world.

A/N – Hello again everyone! Thank you so much for the reviews and follows and favorites! I seriously appreciate everyone's support and input. You have no idea how much your words mean to me. I do have a question though – how are you all liking the chapter length? Too short? Too long? Juuuuuuust right? I'm still very new to this whole process, so I'd love to know your thoughts – about chapter length and, as always, about the chapter itself too. Here you go!

Chapter 4

Days passed, and Hermione found herself in the library once more, flipping through an old tome on the Goblin Rebellions. She knew that the library and its dusty volumes would be her true home this year, considering all of the classes she was taking. Still, despite the comforting smell of books and knowledge, she found her mind wandering. She hadn't had another run-in with Malfoy since he had confronted her in the broom closet. She figured that he was just letting her stew, watching her squirm under his thumb. Ugh, she hated him! The little prat thought he could blackmail her… Well, he _was_ blackmailing her, and getting away with it! That was it – the final straw. This year officially had a shadow cast over it; it wouldn't be the perfect year that she'd hoped for.

Oh well, whatever favors Malfoy cooked up couldn't possibly be too bad. He was most definitely a prat, but he was an unimaginative one.

An image of his smirking face floated to the front of her mind. She frowned, irritated, and tried to banish him from her thoughts. The face in her mind's eye changed: Malfoy, staring slack-jawed at their clasped hands. Why had he reacted that way? Hermione might have expected disgust or mockery, but that expression on his pale, angular features… was it awe? Fascination? Curiosity? She had no idea why he might feel those things.

She had never before wondered about him – not really. She had thought that she understood him quite well, as there didn't seem to be much to understand. He was a spoiled, shallow little brat who had grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth. That was all there was to him… but that expression alone made her doubt her assumptions.

Why did she even care in the first place? He was _blackmailing_ her! Even if he didn't call it that specifically, that's exactly what he was doing. The insufferable prat.

A flash of blonde hair interrupted her thoughts.

She glanced up quickly and found herself face-to-face with the git.

"Malfoy," she said, steeling herself, "Come to cash in, have you?"

"Yes, actually. I have." Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her in a gleeful smirk that made her uncomfortable. She'd just been assuring herself that he couldn't possibly be creative enough to ask for something really terrible, but that glint in his eyes unnerved her.

"Well, what is it then?" she demanded, looking around to make sure no one was near enough to hear them. There was no one in sight.

He paused to pull out a chair and sit down, propping his feet up onto the table – and directly on top of the tome she'd been reading a moment before. She scowled at him and carefully extracted the delicate old text from underneath his shoes.

He smirked in return and continued, "For my first favor, I want you to help me out with Quidditch."

" _Me_? Help out with _Quidditch_?" She let out a loud, sarcastic laugh, "HA! I knew that you weren't particularly clever, Malfoy, but that is just the icing on the cake!"

At that, his superior smirk fell slightly. He pulled his feet back off the table and leaned forward, tenting his hands, "I don't mean to get _tips_ from you, Granger. I've personally witnessed your abysmal flying skills. No, what I want from you is a bit of an… _inside scoop_ on the competition."

"What, you want me to tell you what the Gryffindor team is up to?" She smirked again, honestly amused by his idiocy, "That's not much better. I don't attend their practices. And even if I did, I don't particularly care for the sport – I wouldn't understand half of what I overheard, let alone be able to repeat it back to you!"

"No, you daft cow!" He exclaimed.

She watched his muscles in his jaw clench as he tried to reign in his temper. Maybe she shouldn't provoke him so much when he held her secret in his hands…

"I mean to say," he continued, "that for my first favor, I require you to sneak me in to one of the Gryffindor team's strategy sessions."

"Sneak you in? And how do you expect me to do that?" she retorted.

"I have a rather cunning plan, actually. You see, I was thinking about how I ambushed you the other day. I was in the broom cupboard, waiting for you to open the door, when you simply appeared in front of me. No sound, no forewarning – one moment I was alone, and the next you were there. If I hadn't been looking for you, I never would have seen you.

"For my first favor, you will send me back in time to the exact location where the Gryffidors are having their first strategy meeting of the season. They'll never see me arrive because I'll just appear in a hidden location that you will identify for me ahead of time. I'll gain some valuable information, then return to my dormitory without anyone being the wiser." He finished with a flourish and leaned back in his chair. Hermione could practically feel the smugness radiating off of him.

"I said nothing illegal," she said stiffly.

"It's not illegal! You would be using the Time-Turner, which you have special permission from the Ministry to use. You will use it in order to gain important knowledge that would otherwise remain unknown, which is the express reason that the Time-Turner was given to you in the first place. It just so happens that, in this scenario, I'll be the one gaining knowledge."

"But I can't just send you back in time with the t—" she looked around quickly to ensure, again, that no one was in earshot, then hissed "with the _Time-Turner_. I'm the only one who has permission to use it! I can't send you back without going with you!"

Malfoy pursed his lips. Apparently, he didn't know exactly how the artifact worked.

"Well…" he mused, "You'll just have to send us both back, then bugger off so I can complete my information-gathering mission in peace."

"No. Way. I'm not sending you back and then leaving you to mess with things in the past. Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Malfoy! I have to be incredibly careful not to be seen by anyone when I go back in time, even just for classes! That's why Professor McGonagall set up that secret classroom for me – so I'd have a safe place to use the Time-Turner where no one would chance seeing me."

"So that's how you found that room! Clever of the old bag…"

"She's not an 'old bag'!" Hermione stated shrilly, "Professor McGonagall is quite brilliant to have thought of that particular solution. She modified a muggle-repelling charm so that it works on anyone who doesn't already know where the door is. And since she and I are the only ones who know of its location, it repels everyone!"

"You're forgetting that I also know where it is now," Malfoy said haughtily.

Hermione stopped. _Damn! I never should have brought him there! I was just trying to find a place that I knew we wouldn't be seen…_

"Never mind that now," she said, trying desperately to change the subject, "There's no way that I'm letting you go gallivanting around in the past unsupervised."

"Fine!" he snapped with resignation, "You send us both back to the exact time and place of the strategy session, and then you can watch me and make sure I don't go blowing up the past. How's that?"

"But, it's still breaking school rules! I said I wouldn't do that!" she huffed.

Malfoy just rolled his eyes, "Well this is the favor I choose. It won't hurt anyone; you yourself said that you don't care about Quidditch. What's a little friendly competition?"

"It's not _friendly competition_ – it's spying!"

"I prefer 'information-gathering mission'." One corner of his mouth quirked up, "And again, Granger, you don't have room to debate. This is my first favor; take it or leave it. Of course, if you leave it, you'll have to forfeit your Time-Turner as well. I only keep my silence as long as you hold up your end of the bargain, remember?"

Hermione was fuming. How dare he! But she knew that she had no choice. His favor was worse than she expected, but it was still not a bad as it could be… Especially if she was there to watch his every move. Honestly, it wouldn't be that different than going to class: go back a couple of hours, learn something new, then leave before they had the chance to run into their past selves. She could manage that… right?

She clenched her eyes shut and nodded.

"Wonderful!" he proclaimed. Hermione opened her eyes again to see a brilliant smile on his face. Oh, how she hated his stupid face.

He stood to go, saying, "You've made the right decision, Granger. Really, it will be painless for you. I, on the other hand, will have to endure your company for an entire evening. Honestly, you should be pitying me!"

She glared at him. "Don't push it, Malfoy. I'm agreeing to this against my better judgment. If you put one toe out of line, I will return us to our rightful time and you'll still be down a favor. I can deal with… _bending_ some school rules, but I will not break the law! Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, fine," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Just find out when their first strategy session is by next Monday."

"And how am I to let you know without anyone getting suspicious?" she returned.

He paused, then said, "Meet me Monday evening in the secret room. Seeing as how I'm one of the select few who are privy to its existence, it only makes sense that we use it to hatch my little plan."

Hermione sputtered a bit at this. That was _her_ secret room! She'd honestly loved the idea of having a place of her own in the vast castle. At times, it seemed that there was no privacy at all at Hogwarts. This year was supposed to be her perfect year, and that classroom was supposed to be her refuge! She sighed again. _I suppose that all of my expectations for this year have been ruined thanks to this giant, spoiled git! I can't keep letting him get the better of me!_

A thought occurred to her. "We can meet there," she said cautiously, "but that will count as your second favor."

"What?!" he cried, "But-"

"McGonagall dedicated that classroom for _my use_. You want me to use my Time-Turner for you? That's one favor. You want to use my classroom as well? That's another favor. Unless you can think of another inconspicuous way to discuss your plan?"

"Send me a note using one of the school owls."

She scoffed at him. "We'll have to discuss our plan in detail to make sure that no one catches us and nothing goes wrong. That means multiple owls. Do you really think that Harry and Ron wouldn't notice if I went flitting off to the owlery every day? Even your imbecilic body guards would notice if you kept getting messages via school owls, let alone what _Pansy_ would assume."

Malfoy's eye gave a small twitch as if he was suppressing a shudder.

"The library," he said, "There's no one here now-"

"And you can guarantee that there will be a safe time for us to meet without anyone overhearing your plans to-" she raised her voice slightly, "-spy on the Gryffindor quidditch team?"

"Shh! Be quiet!" he commanded, swiveling around to make sure that they were still alone.

She smiled triumphantly and raised an eyebrow at him. "See?" she cooed, "You just can't be certain that no one will overhear us in here. Too many hiding places, too many passersby. One secret classroom will cost you one favor. That's my offer, Malfoy. Take it or leave it."

He practically growled at her. She knew she had beaten him – finally.

"Fine!" he barked, "Fine. _Two_ favors. You'll meet me Monday evening in the secret room after dinner. You will have the information on the Gryffindor strategy session, and it had better be accurate! I don't want you trying to wriggle out of this. Do you understand me, Mudblood?"

In her pride and elation at having finally won _something_ in this whole debacle, the hateful slur didn't even have any sting. She simply smiled sweetly back at him and replied, "You're on, prat."

His upper lip curled in distaste. He spun around and stalked out of the library. She watched him go, smiling all the while.

It wasn't a perfect situation by any means, but she knew she could hold her own with Malfoy. He wouldn't be able to get the best of her in the end. She made that promise to herself.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 _A/N: As usual, it's not mine. Only the changes I've made in the plot are my ideas; everything else belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling._

 _Hi everyone! I know it's been a while since I updated. I hoped to get chapters to you a bit more frequently, but a lot has been going on between the holidays and big changes at my job (good things, just lots to be done!) Hopefully I'll have more time to write now that some of the craziness has subsided._

 _Thank you so much to everyone who has read, followed, favorited, or reviewed! I'll probably say this in every note, but it warrants repeating: your feedback means SO much – especially since I'm so new to this whole thing! Please continue to let me know what you think of my story as it progresses_ 😊

Chapter 5

The weekend seemed to drag on forever, in Draco's opinion. But now it was Monday. Good day, Monday.

He sat rather restlessly through his classes, impatient to get to find out what Granger knew about Gryffindor quidditch. He congratulated himself again for being so clever and coming up with such a brilliant plan.

After dinner, Draco stealthily made his way to the bare stretch of hallway where he knew the secret classroom was hiding. He stopped when he came to the lone suit of armor and faced the opposite wall.

Which stone was it again? He brandished his wand with his good arm and tapped one randomly.

Nothing happened.

He tried another, to no avail.

 _Dammit!_

He could just see the look on Granger's face if she showed up to find him locked out.

He looked around, wondering if he was even in the right place. It had been somewhere near the suit of armor… There was no other landmark to gauge his position by. There weren't even any paintings in sight. Now that he thought about it, that was probably intentional. The inhabitants of the paintings tended to gossip like old hags; Granger's secret room wouldn't be secret for long with them around.

He glanced down the hallway to ensure that he was still alone, then he tapped another stone with his wand.

Nothing.

Maybe he was too far to the left? He took a small step, then another, and reached out to touch the tip of his wand to the stone in front of him.

After a moment, it wriggled and promptly turned into a doorknob. _Ha!_ Draco grabbed it and entered the room, closing the door securely behind him.

He looked around the abandoned classroom, not having had the chance to examine it the last time he was here.

There was a pile of old desks stacked on top of one another in one corner, an enormous blackboard on the wall to his right, and a window directly in front of him. Despite the fact that everything was covered in a fine layer of dust, Draco decided that the room was actually quite cozy. The large window even had room enough to sit at the base. He stepped forward to gaze out at the castle grounds and wait, anticipation growing with every second.

His thoughts floated to Granger. He could still clearly picture her ridiculous face the previous week in the library while he detailed his grand scheme: flustered, conflicted, indignant. It still shocked him how easily he could identify every single emotion that played out on her features. He'd been taught from a very young age that it was dangerous to showcase one's inner thoughts and feelings. His father had told him countless times: "One's emotions are one's own; they are not to be bandied about in public where anyone can take advantage of them. If people know where your heart lies, they know how to manipulate you." His father had driven his point home on countless occasions. Painfully.

No, emotions were better left alone. A mask of indifference was the most preferable; it made people feel ill-at-ease.

This was why it was so fascinating to watch Granger's reaction. No one would ever need Legilimency to read her mind. Her thoughts were displayed plainly on her face. And whatever she didn't show would doubtless be shouted at him next moment. It was part of why she was so delightfully easy to manipulate. Yes, he was very much looking forward to tonight.

~.~

Monday arrived much too soon for Hermione's liking. She had been so focused on her homework all weekend – Professor Snape had assigned another essay, and she was trying to get ahead in her reading for History of Magic. She'd barely had time to sleep, let alone worry about tonight. But all of a sudden, here it was. She sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and tried to eat, but it was no use. She was just too nervous, dreading the surely terrible encounter to come.

"Oi, Hermione, are you okay? You've barely touched your food," Ron said around a mouthful of bread, his ginger eyebrows scrunched together in concern. Why did he have to choose _tonight_ to suddenly become observant?

"I'm fine!" she said quickly, cringing inwardly at how shrill she sounded, "I'm fine. I've just got a lot on my mind. Lots of homework, you know." She grabbed a roll and took a solid bite to appease him.

"Are you sure you're okay, Hermione?" asked Harry. She simply nodded, still chewing on her bread, before washing it down with a little pumpkin juice.

Ron looked like he was about to ask something else – probably trying to pry about her schedule again – so Hermione decided to flee while she still could.

"You know, I really should head to the library. I, uh, want to get a head-start on this fascinating Arithmancy reading about the importance of the number seven," she said. Then, seeing an opportunity to further dissuade the two nosy boys, she continued, "Did you know that the appearance of '7' has been considered highly significant for over 2,000 years and across multiple cultures and religions? The implications are—"

"Uh, right, 'Mione," interrupted Harry, "that does sound, er, fascinating. I'm sure your time at the library will be just riveting. See you!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and stood from the table, smiling inwardly. She had gotten much better at avoiding the topic of her schedule, even despite Ron's persistence. She didn't quite feel comfortable with outright lying to her friends, but she was secretly proud at how easily she was able to distract them. She was so satisfied with herself for her distraction techniques that she almost forgot why she was dreading tonight in the first place. Then it all came flooding back to her. She left the Great Hall and headed towards her secret classroom, only dragging her feet just a little.

She tapped the secret stone and opened the door to find Malfoy's stupid, smug face already waiting for her with his stupid, perfectly-fine arm still in a sling.

~.~

Draco heard the sound of the door opening, and he turned just in time to see Granger step into the room.

"Malfoy," she said by way of greeting.

"Granger," he returned. There was a pause as she turned to shut the door firmly, ensuring that no one would be able to see the hidden entrance.

"So, did you find out when the Gryffindor strategy session is, or have you just come to bask in my presence?" he asked pompously.

Granger lifted her eyes to the ceiling and then shut them firmly, as if steeling herself. After a moment, she focused her attention back onto him.

"They're meeting this Thursday after dinner," she replied only somewhat reluctantly, "Seven o'clock."

"You're sure?" he asked dubiously, "If you're lying to me and I miss this opportunity, I'll make sure you regret it."

She flapped a hand at him dismissively, "Yes, yes, you're very intimidating and all, but I'm not lying. Besides, I seem to recall someone calling me a 'shite liar'?" She raised an eyebrow at him sassily, as if challenging him to contradict himself.

Draco smirked back at her, amused.

"Right," he said, "You'll meet me here just before curfew. I suspect their practice will end well before then; we shouldn't be seen. We'll sneak out onto the pitch and then you'll use the Time-Turner to send us back to right after they start practice."

She nodded before adding, "We'll have to find a spot where we can see out but no one can see us. And it has to be a place that no one will wander into after practice starts. I'm sure that they'll take a quick search of the pitch and stands before they start, but they shouldn't worry too much after they get going."

"Granger, if you already have a spot in mind, couldn't you just tell me outright instead of making me guess? This isn't class, you know. I'll not give you extra credit for your perfect explanation."

"Fine! I was thinking under the stands," she said waspishly, "In first year, I was able to sneak underneath them undetected during a match in order to light–" she stopped short, eyes suddenly wide, "–well, I, er, was able to move about undetected."

Draco watched as Granger's cheeks grew bright red: embarrassment, anger – presumably at herself for her near slip – and fear. Definitely fear. She didn't want him to know about whatever she'd almost told him. Whatever it was, she was much too guarded now to get anything out of her. He filed that bit of information away for later use.

He nodded, pretending not to notice her stuttering, "Under the stands. That should be close enough for me to hear whatever they're saying, so long as they stay fairly close to the ground."

"Uh, right. Then, when practice is over, we'll wait for everyone to leave before heading back to the castle," she said.

"Fine, fine. I don't exactly want to be seen with your sort anyways."

"Oh yes, of course. I'd hate for you to break one of your precious Pureblood rules, let alone _wizard law_." She looked away from him, nose in the air.

"Don't fret, Granger. You're too much of a goody brown-noser to let us get caught. That's actually what I'm counting on." Draco strolled towards the door, smirking at her as he passed. "I trust I don't have to make any more threats for you to do as you've promised. You already know the consequences if you don't." He paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked back at her bushy form, "Until Thursday, Granger."

"Looking forward to it, Malfoy," she sneered.

And with that, Draco turned the knob and left her alone in the secret room. The rest of the week was going to drag on forever. He simply couldn't wait until Thursday. Good day, Thursday.

 _A/N – Ok so here it is! It was a bit short, but I couldn't fit in Draco's little "information-gathering mission" as well as all of this setup. Don't worry – the next chapter will be longer and have some more action!_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A/N – Hello again! I decided to go ahead and post the next chapter a bit ahead of schedule, mainly because I'm so excited about it! It's also a good bit longer than usual to make up for the last chapter being a bit short.

Also, there will be more direct quotes from the book in this chapter. Reminder: I own nothing from the Harry Potter franchise.

I've designed my story to intertwine closely with PoA, so theoretically you should be able to read the two side-by-side. My goal is to start putting in page numbers so that when I incorporate direct quotes/references, you lovely readers will be able to go and read what happened in the book (like the Hippogriff scene in the first chapter). However, I can't find my copy atm… so I'll go back and put the page numbers in at a later date 😊

Thank you again to everyone who read, followed, favorited, or reviewed, or any combination of the four! Please keep letting me know what you think. As I've seen many other authors say, reviews = love 3

Chapter 6

Hermione sat amidst a pile of books, as usual. The familiar roar of the common room fire was a comforting accompaniment to the chatter of students, who sat in squashy arm chairs all around the room. The noise was actually quite calming to Hermione, focused as she was on her latest Ancient Runes translation. In fact, she was so focused that Ron had to call her name three times before she heard him.

"Oh, sorry Ron!" she said, looking up to find him in sitting in the seat across from hers at the small book-laden table.

"Honestly, 'Mione," Ron said, pulling one of her textbooks towards him, "I reckon you need a break. What are you working on anyways?" He squinted his eyes at the page.

"It's a rather difficult translation for Ancient Runes. And I don't need a break. Actually, I rather think you should join me and finish your Transfiguration homework."

"I've already finished it!" he said a bit too quickly, returning her text and rubbing his eyes, "Besides, staring at all those tiny, squiggly symbols is giving me a headache."

Hermione laughed, "Well what do you expect when you hold the book so close to your face, Ronald?"

"Yeah mate," said a new voice, "It was practically touching your nose."

Hermione looked up to see Harry dressed in his Quidditch robes, Nimbus Two Thousand in his hand.

"Oh, hey Harry," Ron greeted him, "Off to Quidditch practice?"

"Yeah, first one this year. I'd better be off, though. Wood's eyes might pop out of his head if I'm late." With a wave, he turned and climbed out of the portrait hole.

Hermione gulped. Tonight. It was tonight.

"Oi, 'Mione, can I see your Transfiguration homework?"

Pulling herself from her thoughts, she narrowed her eyes.

"I thought you said you'd finished yours, Ronald?"

"I have! 'Course I have. I just want to, you know.. make sure I've got it right, that's all."

Hermione rolled her eyes and handed him her perfected homework. "Here, why don't you just take it. I'm off to the library."

"The library? Again?"

"Yes of course the library _again_! I have a lot of work to do on this translation and I just thought of another book that will help immensely."

She began packing her books into her straining bag. After waving goodbye to Ron, she climbed out of the portrait hole and headed towards the library to get some work done until she had to go meet Malfoy.

~.~

A few hours later, Hermione found herself outside of her secret room once more. She'd considered simply coming here to do her homework, but decided that her nerves would prevent her from being productive. The library wasn't much better, but the smell of the books helped to calm her somewhat.

But now here she was, in front of the secret door. She stared at the apparently blank wall with trepidation, her stomach churning.

 _I've already made my decision_ , she thought to herself, _and it's not like Malfoy will be able to actually win against Harry anyways…_

Finally, she took a breath, tapped the stone, turned the doorknob, and opened the door.

Malfoy was obviously waiting for her.

"Ah, there you are, Mudblood," he drawled, leaning lazily against the door frame, "I was under the impression that having a Time-Turner would mean that you'd actually be on time. Apparently, I was mistaken. Did you get lost?"

 _Ugh._

She gritted her teeth and set her shoulders, rising up to her full height. Earlier in the week, she'd made a very important decision: she was _not_ going to let Draco Malfoy get the best of her. That meant that she wouldn't be baited by his less-than-creative insults, nor would she sink to his level. Her parents had raised her to be a polite and kind young woman, and she wouldn't allow the stupid, slimy, spoiled Slytherin standing in front of her to change who she was. She would fight fire with _friendliness_.

She stepped around him into the room and gave him a very courteous, if empty, smile.

"Hello, Malfoy. Sorry I'm a bit late. I got caught up working on a fascinating Ancient Runes translation and I lost track of time."

His face fell slightly, losing some of its smugness. She inwardly preened. The other reason she'd decided to be polite was that she knew it would irk him if she didn't react to his taunts.

After he'd successfully baited her on Monday, she'd done a bit of thinking. In the library, she managed to ignore his familiar insults, and he'd gotten angry. His reaction during their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson hadn't escaped her notice either; when she told Harry and Ron to ignore him, he practically _seethed_. Yes, the best way to prevent Malfoy getting under her skin was to ignore his jibes and simply be polite. It would drive him absolutely mad.

Of course, she'd never admit, not even to herself, that driving him mad was her main objective. She just kept smiling plainly at him.

He brushed roughly past her into the room, closing the door with more force than was necessary. She stifled a giggle.

"Right," he sneered, "Well, thanks to your tardiness, we'll have to move quickly. Getting caught with you would be bad enough. Getting caught with you past curfew would be worse."

Ignoring the jibe, she said, "Yes, let's be on our way. Just one moment…"

Hermione put her bag down and extracted her winter cloak, gloves, and scarf that she'd placed there before leaving Gryffindor tower.

Malfoy rubbed his eyes exasperatedly, "What _are_ you doing?"

"It's October," she responded. He continued to look at her flatly.

She sighed, "Your oh-so-clever plan is to sneak about, outside, in October, at night, for who knows how long. There's nothing in your plan about freezing to death, so I brought these."

Right, so that hadn't been the _most_ polite thing she could have said, but she couldn't be expected to change completely overnight.

"No, there's nothing in my plan about freezing, but there's also nothing in my plan about standing out – as you now do in all of that ostentatious scarlet and gold. At least your cloak isn't so nauseatingly _Gryffindor_ , but you can't wear the other things."

She took a deep breath. Fight fire with friendliness.

"No problem," she smiled, "I'll leave the gloves and I'll tuck the scarf into the cloak so no one will see it, especially with my hair."

"Well, you're certainly right about that," he taunted, pointedly staring at her tangled mass of mouse-brown hair.

"Lovely," she said nonchalantly, "I'm glad we could come to an agreement."

He paused.

"Thank you, by the way…" he said slowly.

She froze. This whole politeness routine was working way better than she thought!

"…for acknowledging the vast cleverness of my plan. I happen to agree; I'm admirably clever."

He smiled a very self-satisfied smile. She groaned.

"Let's just get this over with, shall we?" she said. And with that, they headed for the door.

~.~

The hallway outside was eerily silent. Naturally, Draco led the way as they crept down corridors and staircases, careful to keep to paths that were less likely to be inhabited. He was just about to turn the last corner before the main entrance hall when he felt Granger grab his robes and yank him forcefully back. Before he could complain, she had slapped her hand over his mouth.

She really needed to stop doing that. He was decidedly uncomfortable with her that close.

He glared at her and almost shoved her away, but he caught sight of her expression: panic. He stiffened immediately. Following her gaze, he spotted a long shadow on the ground. It was bobbing towards them.

Mrs. Norris slinked around the corner before either of them could react. She peered up at them for a moment with her piercing yellow eyes. Every Hogwarts student knew that wherever Mrs. Norris went, Filch inevitably followed soon thereafter. And with Filch would come questions that Draco was sure neither of them wanted to answer.

He sprang into action.

Cursing, he grabbed Granger's hand and sprinted in the opposite direction of the mangy cat, dragging the stunned Gryffindor behind him.

Granger seemed to snap out of it a moment later and began running in earnest. They made a mad dash down hallway after hallway before finally ducking into an abandoned classroom. She shut the door as quietly as possible, and they both pressed themselves against it, panting.

Draco looked down. Granger's hand was still clasped firmly in his. He let go immediately, and made his face go carefully blank. She looked up at him quizzically for half a second before turning to press her ear to the door.

Silence.

They waited for a few minutes in the dark, listening. At one point, Draco was sure he heard Peeves' annoying sing-song voice from somewhere nearby, but blessedly the poltergeist seemed to be headed away from them. Still, they couldn't stay here for long. Someone was sure to happen upon them, and it was even closer to curfew now.

Finally, Granger opened the door and poked her frizzy head out into the hallway. Then she stepped out of the classroom, and Draco followed.

With Granger in the lead this time, they made their way back to the entrance hall, out the main doors, and down to the pitch.

As quietly as possible, Draco snuck underneath the stands to crouch beside Granger. They had made it.

After a moment, Draco said, "Let's get on with it then, Granger. We're here, no one has seen us—"

"Barely!" she hissed, staring daggers at him.

"Yes, barely, but here we are unscathed. Come on, the quicker you send us back, the quicker this will all be over."

Granger held his eye for a long moment before she plunged her hand down the front of her robes and brought out the Time-Turner.

"Step closer," she demanded harshly. Then, in a voice that suggested she was forcing herself to be calm, she said, "The chain needs to be wrapped around both of us for this to work properly."

He took one small, calculated step forward. She gave him a flat look and closed the distance between them before wrapping the fine, gold chain around his neck. He stood as still as he could. Just as he was in the corridor earlier, Draco was acutely aware of her nearness. Something about her still made him… not _nervous_ , definitely not. She was just unnerving.

He watched her as she studied the Time-Turner, then closed her eyes tightly, apparently thinking hard.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, his voice a bit less strong than he would have liked.

"I usually only go back an hour or two," she answered absently, "I just want to be absolutely sure that we end up in the right time."

Her breath smelled like mint. It wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Slowly, she reached for the tiny hourglass and turned it once, twice, and partially again. Suddenly, colors whirled around them, and Draco felt as if he had been shoved backwards so hard that he almost lost his balance.

When everything stopped moving, he felt his feet firmly on the ground. Long rays of the sun were peeking in at them through the stands.

Quickly, Granger retrieved the chain and tucked her precious artifact back beneath her robes. Draco looked around; there was no one in sight. Had Granger messed it up?

Then he heard voices coming from his right – from the locker rooms on the edge of the Quidditch pitch. No, she had gotten it exactly right. Of course.

Draco jerked his head towards the locker rooms and began stealthily making his way towards them. As they got closer, he began to hear bits of conversation.

"…the _best — ruddy — team — in — the — school_ ," someone was saying emphatically. That must be the Gryffindor captain, Wood. Wood said something else that Draco couldn't quite hear, and then,

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," two voices spoke in unison from much closer by, startling Draco, who jumped slightly. He heard a small huff from behind him and turned to see Granger with her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh at him. He scowled and returned his attention to Gryffindors inside.

After a moment, Granger crept up beside him to listen as well. Draco tried to ignore her.

Next, he heard a bit about Potter being the best-Seeker-in-the-bloody-universe, and he rolled his eyes. Granger flicked her gaze to him. He continued to try and ignore her.

"Oliver, this year's our year," said one of the voices closest to them.

"We'll do it, Oliver!" said a female voice.

"Definitely," said yet another voice that doubtless belonged to the Scarhead himself.

There was much shuffling and chatter as the team headed out onto the pitch. Draco reoriented himself so that he could have the best view of the practice, and he was pleased that he could still hear most of Wood's instructions as he led the team through various formations and drills.

After a while, Draco began to feel slightly nauseous. The Gryffindor team was strong this year – very strong. Although Wood sometimes seemed as if he was one turn away from going 'round the bend, he was undoubtedly a brilliant strategist. It was going to be tough to defeat them, even with his inside information.

His thoughts were interrupted as Granger jostled him. Annoyed, he drolly shifted his eyes in her direction. She was trying to shift her position but couldn't quite manage, as her left foot appeared to be asleep.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Honestly, Granger. You're the one who's done this before, sneaking underneath the stands. Are you really having this much trouble?"

She finally managed to wrangle all of her limbs into a better position before politely stating, "I was in a completely different place the last time, almost on the opposite side of the pitch. And it was almost two years ago."

 _The opposite side… She was underneath the_ Slytherin _stands?_ Draco thought with surprise.

He continued, making sure not to show any of his surprise on his face, "Well I'd think that your last experience would have taught you to be silent and still so as not to get caught."

"During my _last experience_ ," she said with somewhat less decorum, "there were loads people in the stands and I wasn't hiding there for long. This is an entirely different set of circumstances."

Aha! He pounced. "You were skulking underneath the _Slytherin_ stands during a Quidditch match?"

She stiffened. When it didn't look like she would offer any more information, Draco continued, "Almost two years ago would have been the beginning of our first year. What would you have been doing our first year during the first Quidditch match that you don't want me to know about?"

"It's really none of your business, Malfoy," she said. She was getting less and less polite by the second. He smirked.

"Let's see… the first Quidditch match was when Potter fell off his broom and practically swallowed the snitch. What else happened?" he mused, encouraged by the pink in her cheeks and her refusal to meet his eyes, "Oh yes, that's right; Potter fell because someone cursed his broom, but I doubt that was your doing. Of course, I almost missed the show thanks to stupid Longbottom."

Draco grimaced, remembering the fistfight that had ensued because of his taunting, "And then there was the matter of Professor Snape's robes…" he drifted off, staring at her. Her eyes darted to him briefly before she fixed her gaze on her feet.

His mask broke. He stared at her, slack-jawed.

"Professor Snape's robes caught fire," he continued, "You… there's no way that was _you._ "

But her face confirmed it. Her cheeks were bright red now, and she was pointedly staring at anything but him. He gawked openly at her.

"I…" she whispered almost too quietly for him to hear, "It was an accident…"

"You _accidentally_ hid underneath the Slytherin stands and set fire to a professor's robes?" Draco hissed incredulously.

Mortified, Granger snapped. "I thought that it was Snape who cursed Harry's broom! I was trying to break his eye contact, and I made sure not to actually _hurt_ him, I just wanted to distract him so Harry would be all right, but it turns out that it wasn't even Snape in the first place; it was Quirrell! Luckily, the smoke from Snape's robes broke Quirrell's eye contact anyways, so really, I saved Harry's life…"

She said all of this so quickly that Draco almost missed it. _Merlin._ Granger had broken about fifty rules and set one of the most intimidating professors in the school on _fire_. And she'd done it her first year.

"Bloody Hell, Granger!" he said a bit too loudly. He darted his gaze back towards the pitch, but no one had heard him. He turned back to the girl beside him. She was staring back at him.

"Please don't say anything!" she whispered pleadingly. He was aware again of how close she was. Of the scent of her. Of the blush in her cheeks. Of the growing sheen to her brown eyes.

"I'll consider it."

He hadn't meant to say that. It was almost as if the words tumbled off his tongue of their own volition.

Granger continued to stare at him. After a moment, she nodded and looked away, blinking rapidly.

What was he _doing_? This was the perfect opportunity to leverage another favor out of Granger. Was he really going to waste it? Or was he honestly considering just keeping her secret, telling no one? No, he couldn't think about this now. This wasn't the time or place. Draco returned his attention to the pitch, trying to follow the movements of the players as they flew, weaving and diving in the air.

Eventually, Wood called for everyone to land.

 _Thank Merlin_ , Draco thought. The frigid October air had caused his fingers and the tip of his nose to go almost entirely numb. He'd never admit it, but Granger had been right. He thought longingly of his heavy winter cloak hanging innocently in his dormitory, and he scowled at the know-it-all sitting beside him before peering out of the stands once more.

The Gryffindor captain said a few words more that Draco couldn't quite make out, and then everyone started walking back to the locker rooms. Granger shifted slightly, trying to crouch down further so she wouldn't be seen as the team passed by.

As she moved, one pair of eyes turned in their direction. She and Draco froze simultaneously. Out on the pitch, Harry Potter took a step towards them, staring just to the right of where they hid.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 _A/N – Hi everyone! It's been entirely too long, I know. I could give excuses, but I've left you all with this cliffhanger far too long, so without further ado…._

 _Granger shifted slightly, trying to crouch down further so she wouldn't be seen as the team passed by._

 _As she moved, one pair of eyes turned in their direction. She and Draco froze simultaneously. Out on the pitch, Harry Potter took a step towards them, staring just to the right of where they hid._

The next moment stretched on for what seemed like forever to Draco.

Then, just as Potter took a hesitant step towards them, someone called, "Oi, Harry!"

The black-haired boy shook his head and turned towards the source of the voice, which continued, "What happened, did you get petrified? I thought you took care of Slytherin's monster last year!"

Potter snorted and, smiling, followed the rest of the Gryffindor team out of sight.

Draco slowly unclenched his fists.

Granger looked at Draco and let out a shaky breath, smiling in relief. He smiled tenuously back at her for a brief second before catching himself and schooling his features.

They waited for be an excruciatingly long time before the last Gryffindor exited the locker rooms and headed towards the castle.

Draco tentatively peered around to make sure the coast was clear before stepping out from underneath the stands. Granger followed.

He set out towards the front doors, but he stopped short when Granger grabbed his sling from behind, hissing, "No! We have to go back a different route!"

He threw a contemptuous glare at her and made a show of righting the sling that held his mostly-healed arm in place. Once he was sure he'd sufficiently got his point across, he rolled his eyes and changed direction. Wordlessly, they trudged up the alternate path to the castle. It was longer, but Draco didn't want to endure any further nagging or possible harm to his person.

The grounds were beginning to darken in earnest, making the stretch of Forbidden Forest at their left appear even more ominous. He shivered at the memory of walking through those woods for the first time, two years ago. Granger had been there then, too.

He stole a quick glance in her direction. She was staring at her feet, deep in thought according to the small wrinkle that had formed between her eyebrows. He turned his gaze forward again. He was just beginning to wonder what might be occupying her mind when something caught his attention.

Ahead, just within the border of the Forest, an enormous shadow moved. Draco stopped dead in his tracks. He could just barely make out the silhouette against the encroaching darkness of the forest, but he recognized it immediately. Fear flooded him. His father had told him all about this. It was massive, black dog.

The Grim.

Two eyes appeared, gleaming menacingly, staring directly at him.

Draco didn't remember taking off. He only knew that he was sprinting as fast as he could away from death. He thought he had run quickly from Mrs. Norris earlier that evening, but that was nothing. He had practically skipped away from her compared to his frantic scrambling now.

He barely heard Granger's strangled cry of surprise, and he was dimly aware of her following him, trying desperately to keep up.

He risked a look behind him, taking in Granger's mad hair as she chased him, but he didn't see the Grim. He was just about to turn forward again when his foot caught something. He fell spectacularly, landing in a heap on the ground.

Granger slowed to a stop in front of him, breathing heavily.

"What – in _Merlin's_ name – are you running from?!" she exclaimed between breaths. She looked around, bewildered.

Something moved in the bushes to his right. He jumped, scrambling backwards across the ground, emitting a rather less-than-masculine squawk. Granger followed his movements, her eyes going wide as she looked behind him.

"Malfoy, look out!" she screeched, reaching her hand towards him.

Out of pure instinct, Draco rolled out of the way, looking back just in time to see a massive branch crash into the ground, obliterating the space he'd just occupied. Then Granger was there, hauling him to his feet, screaming, " _It's the Whomping Willow!_ "

They only made it a few steps before a low-swinging limb caught Granger in the shin. She stumbled onto her hands and knees so suddenly that Draco barreled over her and ended up sprawled on the ground again. Covering his head, he looked wildly around, trying to make sense of the swirling, angry mass. He saw the gnarled branch just in time.

"Get _down!_ " he yelled.

He grabbed Granger's arm and jerked it to the side so that she fell flat on her face. The gnarled branch whizzed so closely past her head that her mousy hair flew after it in its wake. Wide-eyed, they gawked for a moment as the branch gouged the earth with its knotted fist, raining down clumps of overturned dirt. Several smaller twigs cut into Draco's flesh as he rolled out of the way of the next limb. Granger, having just managed to scramble upright, grabbed hold of his hand again and heaved. The entire tree reared back, readying for one last murderous strike. The two ran as fast as they could, not pausing to look back as the massive tangle of angry boughs struck the ground with a resounding _BOOOM!_

Once they were safely out of range, Draco turned around, surveying the enormous tree as it slowly righted itself, branches still swinging protectively.

Granger continued to pull him in the direction of the castle, shouting, "Come on! Someone will have heard that! We can't be here – we still can't be _seen!_ "

He quite happily obliged.

Once they reached the castle, Granger dragged them into the first empty room she could find. Draco leaned heavily against the wall then slid down until he was sitting on the ground, panting. Granger collapsed in a heap, hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath.

They stayed that way for a few minutes. Granger, predictably, broke the silence.

"I'm really tired of running away from things with you. How do we _always_ end up running and hiding from things together?"

Draco gave a weak laugh, "It's because you're always getting me into trouble, Granger."

" _Me?_ " she said, seeming both annoyed and amused, " _You're_ the one who started running like there was a werewolf after you! What scared you anyways?"

The Grim. The huge shadow moving just beyond the trees.

"It was nothing."

"You…" she began, her eyes unfocused, "You saved me. From the Whomping Willow. It was coming right for me, and you knocked me out of the way."

He paused. "…And?"

"At first…" she paused, obviously unsure, "At first, I thought you were trying to get me killed. But then I felt that branch pass over me. I actually _felt_ it how close it was."

She turned to peer at him curiously. "You could have just let it hit me. You could have just saved yourself… but you didn't."

"Well, I couldn't just – I mean, you-" he began, desperately searching for an explanation. But she was right. He hadn't even thought about what he was doing. He just… acted. And he saved the life of someone he was supposed to hate.

He suddenly found her curious gaze unnerving. Infuriating. His eyes darkened and he stood abruptly, brushing the dirt off his robes and glaring at her.

"You still owe me favors," he spat, "I couldn't let you die when I still have a use for you."

She continued to stare at him, and for the first time, Draco couldn't seem to pin down what she was thinking.

Finally, something in her expression changed minutely, and she replied, "No. I don't suppose you could."

She stood up. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "Regardless of your reasoning, thank you for helping me tonight. Even if you were just being a selfish prick, you still saved me." Her words held no sting.

Draco blinked, using all of his feigned nonchalance to mask his surprise. He turned to straighten his sling, which was currently hanging limply around his neck like some sort of horrendous scarf. Keeping his eyes averted, he replied stiffly, "Yes, well, you helped me first. If you hadn't warned me, that blasted tree would have crushed me."

It was the closest to thanking her as he would get.

She nodded slightly, then began plucking bits of twig off of her robes before saying, "Well, I couldn't very well have you die while I still owed you one last favor. You'd come back as a ghost, and then I'd never be rid of you." One corner of her mouth was quirked into an almost imperceptible smirk.

Then Draco had a thought.

"Two favors," he corrected, mirroring her expression.

"I – what?" She froze in the act of pulling a leaf out of her tangled hair.

He crossed his arms and stared pointedly at her. "You. Lit. A. Professor. On. Fire. Two favors."

If Granger would do whatever he said because of a secret that she actually had permission for, what would she do to keep _this_ little tidbit from going public? He grinned wickedly at his cleverness, while also taking a small step back in anticipation of her reaction.

To his surprise, she burst out laughing. It wasn't a particularly happy sound.

"You really are a git, do you know that?" she exclaimed, eyes flashing, "Your first two favors nearly got both of us killed!"

He bristled, "Yes, well, you're the one who wanted to walk back by way of murderous shrubbery!"

This time, Granger's laughter was genuine.

"' _Murderous shrubbery?'"_ she giggled, clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.

Draco only raised an eyebrow at her. Apparently, near-death experiences were highly entertaining. Bloody Gryffindors.

"Fine," she said when she finally regained control of herself, "Fine. Two favors; but I'm revisiting my conditions. Nothing illegal, no breaking school rules, and nothing that will get either of us killed! We're lucky Dumbledore banned the Dementors from entering Hogwarts grounds, or tonight could have been so much worse."

"Fine," he agreed, "I'm sure I can still think of something sufficient." He wasn't exactly looking for another evening like this one anyways. He'd never admit it, but the night's experiences had made him - not frightened, of course - just wary.

Granger rolled her eyes and headed towards the door. "We should be getting back to our dormitories; it should be safe by now. And we should make sure to take different hallways than we did on our way out. Just in case."

"Right, right, yes, we don't want to run into ourselves," he said, waving her forward.

"At least we know Filch is in a different part of the castle," she added. She cracked the door open with a dainty hand and peered into the corridor beyond. It was vacant, apparently, because she stepped out. Then she hesitated, turned back towards him, and bobbed her head in a brief nod. Her hair mimicked the motion a half second later.

Slowly, he returned the gesture. Granger turned and left, heading up the staircase. Draco waited a few seconds more before heading in the opposite direction, down towards the dungeons.

~.~

When she arrived back at her dormitory, Hermione had the sudden, inexplicable urge to start laughing again. After all these years, one would think that she would be accustomed to always being right. And yet here she was, holding back laughter at just how _horrible_ this night had been. She'd known it would be. She'd just _known_ it.

She'd been blackmailed into breaking a dozen school rules, she'd been manipulated into divulging a dangerous secret to her untrustworthy enemy, she'd chased after said enemy when he suddenly sprinted off for no apparent reason, and then she'd helped him escape being maimed by the Whomping Willow.

And he'd done the same for her.

That gave her pause.

He'd knocked her to the ground, sure, but he still _saved_ her. He could have just run away, but he didn't. Wasn't that entirely contrary to his nature?

Regardless, it almost felt as if the experience had led to a sort of unspoken truce between them. It was funny, she thought, how saving someone's life could do that sort of thing. The same had happened in her first year.

This was much different, though. When Harry and Ron had saved her from the troll, the three had developed an unspoken friendship. What developed between her and Malfoy tonight was more of a begrudging respect - and a miniscule one at that. Malfoy was still a prat. Still her enemy. Still blackmailing her. There was still an edge between them… it had just been dulled ever so slightly.

Ugh, that thought was giving her a headache. With a sigh, she discarded her robes and pulled on her pajamas. She climbed into her four-poster as quietly as she could manage. As soon as she felt the cool sheets on her skin, exhaustion hit her like the Hogwarts Express. She sighed again, eyelids drooping shut. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be.

~.~

Draco rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

Trying to find even a second of sleep was proving impossible, thanks to Goyle's thunderous snores.

He sighed, throwing his arm over his face and scowling. Tomorrow was going to be awful.

He had his make up lesson for Defense Against the Dark Arts after a full day of classes, and on barely any sleep. Not to mention his dread after witnessing the Gryffindor team's prowess. Not to mention his lingering fear…

An image of the massive, shadowy dog came unbidden to the forefront of his mind: death incarnate. He tried to shove it away.

Suddenly, Goyle let out a great wheezing grunt, making Draco's eyes pop open wide.

Sitting up, he scowled in the bigger boy's direction. Seizing his wand off his nightstand, he hissed, " _Aguamenti_!"

A stream of water burst out of the end of his wand and splashed right onto Goyle's face. Slowly, the giant oaf sat up, mumbling, "'Ello?" After a moment, he merely flopped back down onto his mattress with a _squelch_.

Draco rolled his eyes, drew the curtains around his four-poster, and settled on his side once more.

He _would_ sleep. He wouldn't waste any more time thinking about shadows or Quidditch or the bloody Whomping Willow.

Why would they even keep a tree like that on school grounds? Where innocent children were?

Not that he was exactly innocent, but still. Goody Granger was—

But wait. She wasn't nearly as innocent as she pretended to be. She _set Professor Snape's robes on FIRE_.

Draco could hardly believe it. He was almost… impressed. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone.

She was still a Mudblood. Still annoying. Still just a thing to be used, manipulated to his advantage. And she just kept giving him more leverage, the stupid girl.

Then, a tiny voice in his head reminded him that she had saved his life.

He fought down a small wave of guilt, shuddering at the unfamiliar feeling.

No, they were even. She saved his life and he… he had saved hers. She would continue to do him favors upon his request, and he would continue to keep her various secrets.

He simply imagined that she would be doing him favors for a very, very long time.

He smiled to himself, finally allowing his eyes to close.

 _A/N – You didn't think I'd let Harry find out about Hermione and Draco so soon, did you? Haha I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a bit difficult for me to write, so I definitely let me know what you think. And a special thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. You have no idea how much that helps this process! You guys are the best._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 _A/N – You all know the drill by now. I own nothing_ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Draco sauntered into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The new professor had insisted that he make up the lesson he'd missed while he was in the hospital wing – something about wanting all students to have practical experience with defensive spells. So here he was on Friday night after dinner, heading back to class instead of relaxing in the Slytherin common room and letting Pansy fawn all over him.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," came the professor's hoarse voice, "So glad you could join me this evening. I trust your classmates have told you what the first lesson covered?"

"Boggarts," Draco answered drolly.

"Quite right, quite right. And what did you hear about them?" Professor Lupin said pleasantly. Really, the man was all too happy to be teaching after hours.

"They manifest as something you're afraid of, and laughter dispatches them."

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," he commended, then he went on to explain the corresponding spell, _Riddikulus_ , and how to use it. He had Draco repeat it back once or twice to ensure that he had the pronunciation down.

"Well done, I think you've got it. Now, I managed to locate another Boggart for you to practice on; it's right here in this drawer."

As if on cue, the drawer gave a loud rattle.

"Now," Lupin continued, "Do you know what it will turn into?"

Draco paused for a moment, considering.

"The Grim," he said, making his voice sound stronger than he felt.

He expected the professor to scoff, maybe even laugh, but he simply nodded and said, "Have you ever seen a breed of dog called the Chinese Crested?"

Draco was slightly taken aback by the abrupt change in topic.

"The _what_?"

"The Chinese Crested. It's a type of small dog that's characterized by its lack of hair except for a lion-like mane around its head and tufts on its legs and tail."

An image floated to Draco's mind.

"Yes, I believe I have seen one before. One of Mother's horrid friends always carried a monstrosity of a rat with her wherever she went, and I daresay the mangy creature fits the description."

Lupin smiled wanly, "Hold that image in your mind. Picture it as clearly as if it was standing in front of you. I'm going to open this drawer on the count of three, and then you will say the incantation and imagine The Grim turning into a Chinese Crested. Are you ready?"

Draco gulped, keeping his face blank. At least his classmates weren't around to witness this.

Tightening his grip on his wand, he nodded to Lupin.

"One," began the professor.

Draco focused on the image of the ridiculous dog in his mind's eye. He imagined the scruffy mane, the wrinkly bald skin, the bulbous eyes. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't quite fight back the image of a different dog. A huge, black shadow. Death.

"Two,"

 _Focus!_ Draco scolded himself, _Really, what would Father think if I couldn't even fend off a measly Boggart!_

Right before Professor Lupin called "Three!", the image in his mind's eye changed.

The drawer opened, and something stepped out. But it wasn't The Grim.

Draco staggered back, stunned, as his father glared at him dangerously.

"What a _miserable_ excuse for a son," Lucius Malfoy sneered, his voice low and slow and foreboding.

The color drained completely from Draco's face, and he stared wide-eyed at the figure before him.

The Lucius-Boggart laughed derisively, "How could I _ever_ be proud of _you_?"

He advanced on his son.

"You're useless – _pathetic –_ andI won't suffer your ineptitude any longer."

He raised his fist to strike, and Draco stumbled backwards, crashing into a desk and barely escaping the blow.

Suddenly, his view was blocked by a set of incredibly shabby robes.

Professor Lupin, who had apparently been stunned by the unexpected shape the Boggart took, had finally sprung into action. As soon as he stepped in between Draco and Lucius, the Boggart changed into – _was that a crystal ball?_

With the flick of his wand and a nonchalant, " _Riddikulus_ ", the floating orb transformed into a kumquat, which plopped to the ground and rolled off lazily. With another quick wand movement and a small chuckle, Lupin banished the kumquat back into the drawer.

Turning back to face his student, Professor Lupin asked kindly, "Are you all right, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco hastily righted himself and shouted, "Of course I am!"

He opened his mouth to continue when Lupin said calmly, "Perhaps we should end the lesson here."

"You're bloody well right we're ending the lesson here!" Draco continued, "I can't believe you were even _authorized_ to teach this lesson in the first place! My father—" but his throat closed up before he could finish his sentence. His father could never know about this.

"Draco," Lupin said tentatively, "If there is anything you wish to discuss with me—"

"It was NOTHING! Understand? _Nothing._ "

The professor closed his mouth grimly. "Very well."

Draco stormed out of the classroom, fleeing from the stinging in his eyes. Fleeing from those words.

~.~

The next morning came far too quickly for Draco's taste. The light filtering through his dormitory window from the lake was abnormally bright, causing his head to ache with waves of pain.

He'd returned from his make-up lesson the previous evening and gone straight to bed, ignoring Pansy's huffs of protest. He'd been in no mood to deal with her, nor had he wanted to endure the stupidity of Crabbe or Goyle. He just wanted to be alone.

To escape the memories of dogs and death and… Boggarts. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the happy green light that seemed to mock him.

Slowly, he sat up, his abused muscles aching in protest. Between the Whomping Willow and crashing into that desk during his Defense lesson, he had acquired quite a few new bruises to add to his collection. Not that he was unaccustomed to hiding them. At least the purple and blue on the left side of his chest had faded into greens and yellows...

Sighing, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and firmly pressed his bare feet to the cool floor. He felt himself relax slightly, as if the chill had grounded him. If it wasn't so undignified, he would have laid down on the floor completely and let the cool stones sap the soreness from his limbs and back.

But a Malfoy wouldn't deign to do something so degrading.

So instead, he stood, stretched slightly, and got dressed.

Once he looked immaculate, he lifted his chin and swaggered into the common room, making sure to disguise any lingering aches.

Pansy saw him immediately and tried to catch his eye. Unwilling to bear her simpering so early in the morning, he looked around for any excuse not to talk to her. Luckily, an excuse found him.

"Malfoy, just the seeker I been looking for," said Marcus Flint. The boy was older and ugly as a troll, but he was a decent Quidditch captain, so Draco didn't mind him.

"Flint, just the captain I've been looking for," Draco replied with a nod.

"Oi? And why's that?"

The blonde looked around to ensure no one was within earshot, "I've got some information for you, and you're not going to like it…"

Flint's eyes narrowed, and Draco proceeded to tell him everything he'd learned watching the Gryffindor team practice.

As he spoke, Flint's wide-set eyes narrowed further. "'Ow do you know all this?"

Draco scoffed, "Well I obviously can't reveal my sources, but trust me: we don't want to go up against them yet. We need to completely revise our method if we're going to stand a chance. Normally they're laughably incompetent, but their captain is almost maniacal. He's obsessed with the Quidditch Cup, and worse, he's not a bad hand at strategy."

Flint looked down, eyes unfocused as he considered Draco's words. His gaze seemed to land on Draco's arm.

Finally, he looked back up, a smirk firmly planted on his features.

"Don't worry, I got a plan."

~.~

Draco was feeling much better by the time Halloween rolled around. He'd had a full day of mischief at Hogsmeade, and his pockets were loaded down with sweets from Honeydukes and Dungbombs from Zonko's. The Halloween feast had been excellent, too. He'd even had another opportunity to get a jab in at the Scarhead: "The Dementors send their love, Potter!"

All in all, it was turning out to be a very pleasant day. He hadn't even had any thoughts of his earlier misadventures.

That was, until he heard the news.

Sirius Black. In the castle. The Fat Lady in hiding.

Draco settled into one of the many squashy purple sleeping bags that lined the floor of the Great Hall. This was so undignified. He had a perfectly good bed in his dormitory, and it wasn't as if Draco was the one Black was after. He'd overheard Severus saying that this was all Potter's fault. (Draco suspected that Severus had intentionally spoken just loud enough in his conversation with Professor Flitwick so that the Slytherins could hear).

Trust stupid Potter to find a way to ruin his good mood.

His eyes drifted over towards the Gyffindors. Three students clad in red and gold sat awfully close together, whispering. Draco narrowed his eyes. He wished, not for the first time, that he had a way to eavesdrop. What were they up to?

No matter. He and Flint had already put their plan in motion. Draco smirked contentedly. The Gryffindor team wouldn't stand a chance. That would show Potter and the Weasel.

Despite the fact that Draco missed his comfortable bed in the dungeons, his eyelids began to droop closed. His last glimpse before sleep took him was of a very bushy head of hair snuggled in a purple sleeping bag.

~.~

"I can't believe this!" Ron raged.

"There isn't anything _wrong_ with Malfoy's stupid arm anyways, but the Slytherins _still_ got out of the match Saturday!" Harry ranted for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"And they timed it like this on _purpose_ , I'd bet ten galleons on it!" Ron continued, "Hufflepuff have a completely different strategy than the Slytherins do – Flint waited till the last second to pull the switch and make sure that you lot wouldn't have time to adjust!" He finished with a wild motion in Harry's direction.

Hermione sat silently, trying not to appear too guilty. Really, it was her fault that the game had gotten switched around. She just knew that Malfoy was behind the last-minute ploy to get a leg up on his rival. She fidgeted with her quill, trying to concentrate on her Muggle Studies assignment.

"...the _nerve_ of that stupid git!" Ron seethed. Hermione couldn't even look at him. She and Ron had been arguing often enough as it was, not to mention that she'd unwillingly assisted his least favorite person in spying on his favorite team. She suppressed a shudder at the thought of Ron's reaction if he ever found out.

She wanted so desperately for all three of them to have a good year, but between the Dementors and the arguments and the blackmail, things weren't looking up.

~.~

Saturday rolled around, bringing with it a terrible storm, a terrifying accident, and even more bad luck.

The Dementors had all converged on Harry during the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match. Hermione had screamed in horror as her friend plummeted towards the ground. Then Cedric had caught the Snitch, and Harry was in the hospital wing, and his Nimbus 2000 was battered to smithereens by that stupid, angry tree.

And on top of everything, Malfoy was strutting around the halls, gloating to everyone he could about Harry's literal downfall.

Harry's mood was nothing short of morose, and Ron followed as he always did.

This was all Hermione's fault – all her fault! She sat down in her usual place in the very front of the Arithmancy classroom.

As she was getting out her parchment and quill, she overheard Malfoy's familiar drawl, "-the way he just dropped out of the sky, you could tell that he was in a dead faint. It's quite embarrassing, honestly. But the absolute best part is that he lost his broom. I've always wondered why that old crackpot headmaster keeps that tree on school grounds, but I think I've actually grown rather fond of the Whomping Willow now."

There was a chorus deep snickering that came from Crabbe and Goyle, and Hermione could practically _feel_ Malfoy's ego getting even bigger. A distant part of her mind recognized that the git was speaking just loud enough so that she could _hear_ him gloating. She ground her teeth.

No, this wasn't Hermione's fault. It was _Malfoy's_ fault. And she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

She kept her head resolutely forward, trying to focus on what Professor Vector was saying.

What seemed like hours later, the Professor dismissed the class. Hermione shot up out of her seat, quickly throwing her things into her bag. She walked towards the door, shooting a glare at Malfoy, and then looking significantly at the place where she'd been sitting.

Malfoy followed her gaze. There, on her desk, was a small piece of parchment that she'd seemingly left behind. She watched as the Slytherin craned his neck slightly, and she knew that he'd seen her tidy handwriting along the side of the scrap: _Tonight, after dinner._

Confident that he understood her message, she threw her voluminous hair over her shoulder and stalked out of the room.

She would wait in her secret classroom tonight. She would wait however long it took for him to show up. And then he would get what was coming to him.

 _A/N - Hello everyone! So, I know this chapter had a bit of filler in it, but I don't want to lose track of what's happening in the main story arc. Bear with me a little longer – there's more action coming up_ _Thank you sincerely to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. You guys all get virtual chocolate!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Draco strolled into the secret room, only slightly wary, and extremely curious. What could Granger possibly want from him? It was a risky move, asking him here like this. Well, demanding was more like. His pride almost prevented him from coming, but his curiosity won out.

Granger was already there, pacing. That wasn't a good sign. As he watched her, she brought her hand up to her chin, fingers curled in, and brushed her thumb across her lower lip, back and forth. He fought to keep his eyes from being drawn to the movement of her thumb as her lips parted slightly.

Draco had observed this motion before – a nervous habit of hers when she was concentrating hard on something. Judging by the furrow of her brows and narrowing of her eyes, she was extremely agitated.

Still, he couldn't quite help himself when he realized that she was so focused on her thoughts that she hadn't heard him enter. Quietly, he crept further into the room…

...and suddenly, as loudly as he could, he cleared his throat.

She jumped about a foot in the air and tried to whip around to face him. However, the momentum of her harried pacing left her off balance, and her feet became entangled when she turned too quickly. She fell to the stone floor with a fleshy _thwump_ and a startled cry.

Draco leaned up against the wall opposite her, trying and failing to hide his chuckle. He adjusted his sling, and waited for the eruption that was sure to come at any moment.

"Malfoy! _Why_ did you do that?!" she shrieked, rubbing her hip as she stood.

Draco had to draw his eyes back to her face before responding, "You were so caught up in those bushy-headed thoughts of yours, I figured you'd need some serious assistance extracting yourself. I'm ever the gentleman, you see."

"Gentlemanly enough to give me a bruise!" she hissed venomously, still rubbing at her hip in a most distracting way.

Chuckling, it turned out, was the wrong thing to do at that moment.

Draco threw himself to the side as a jet of purple light whizzed by his right ear.

"Put your wand down, woman!" he shouted. It was a bit hazardous, riling her up like this. Worth it, though, to see that spark in her eyes.

"You're just _so_ satisfied with yourself, aren't you?!" Granger screeched.

Draco had to refrain from covering his ears. Instead, he answered as steadily as he could manage, "I'm fairly pleased, yes."

Granger seemed to have temporarily lost the ability to speak. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. He smirked again, then dropped the expression when he saw her wand arm twitch towards him menacingly. He was pushing his luck, and he knew it.

After a moment, she let out a frustrated sort of groan, raking her fingers through her wild curls and only managing to make them wilder.

"I can't believe you!" she exclaimed, "It's one thing to want a rival Quidditch team to lose, but it's another thing entirely to rejoice at someone's near _death_! I can't believe you would be so heartless! That's low, even for a Slytherin!"

"I won't take pity on goody Potter," Draco stated drolly, "He deserved every bit of what happened on Saturday."

This statement only enraged the girl in front of him even further. She shot another jinx at him, which he barely managed to dodge.

"He did not! He didn't deserve to have his broom destroyed, or to lose the match because of some stupid fluke!"

"He lost all on his own, Granger! Madame Hooch called it; Hufflepuff won! As unbelievable as that may seem."

"Oh don't give me that! Even _Cedric_ tried to call it off, and he was the one who actually caught the Snitch! He didn't even realize what was happening until it was too late!"

Since when was she on a first-name basis with _Diggory?_

"Oh please," Draco rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step towards her, arms crossed. "Diggory is even more of a pathetic do-gooder than Potter!"

"He tried to call for a rematch!" she exclaimed, "Even though it would be better for Hufflepuff to accept the outcome, he would still rather have a fair game." She crossed her arms with a sense of finality, "Say what you will about Cedric, but I think he's quite admirable!"

There was something in her voice when she said the Hufflepuff's name that set Draco on edge.

" _Cedric_ , is it?" he said with saccharine sarcasm, "You just admire him _so_ much don't you? Trying to help save your poor icky Potty's feelings!"

"Well he's certainly a better person than you _,_ the so-called _gentleman_!" she quipped venomously, "You don't even care if someone _dies_ , so long as it works out better for you in the end!"

Draco's blood began to boil. _Cedric_ was _not_ as perfect as the stupid Gryffindor thought he was. There was no way that a Hufflepuff was better than a Slytherin, regardless of the circumstances.

"So what if I'm pleased at my enemy's failure?" he hissed, "Anyone would do the same in my position! You know quite well that Potter wouldn't act _admirably_ if the roles were reversed!"

"He would too!" she insisted, although she couldn't quite keep his gaze, "B-but even so, Cedric—"

" _Cedric_ is just as unscrupulous as the rest of us!" Draco exclaimed, "Everyone has a secret; you know that better than most, Granger. Diggory is just like the rest of them, putting on a goody little mask and pretending he's perfect!"

"Oh please," she spat, "You're just jealous that he was able to do what you couldn't!"

"And what's that?!"

"Beat Harry Potter in Quidditch! Even if it was a fluke, it's still closer than you'll ever come!"

Her chest was heaving as she threw the words at him. Draco clenched his fists and ignored the sting of truth as best he could.

"I'll prove it." Draco said coldly.

"Prove what?!" screeched Granger.

"That Diggory is no better than anyone else. He's just as dirty-handed, just as much of a backstabber. I bet he's even worse than your _precious Potter_!"

Granger scoffed, "Oh _really?!_ And just _how_ will you do that?"

Draco paused, forcing himself to meet her gaze. How _was_ he going to do it?

One side of her lips quirked up into an extremely self-satisfied smirk. She raised her eyebrows, challenging him.

He racked his brains. There had to be a sure way to show Granger once and for all that Diggory was nothing. He searched frantically around the room for some inspiration. How could he trick the prat into letting his true colors show?

His eyes came to rest on the sliver of gold chain that was peeking out of Granger's robes. He smirked.

"I'm certain that, given enough _time_ , I can show you that Diggory is just as depraved as the next man."

"What are you on about, Malfoy?"

"You'll send us back in time again," he said with more confidence than he felt.

"You want to use another favor? What would that do? We were both at the Quidditch match; I hardly think we'll find any conclusive evidence to back up your ridiculous claim about Cedric!"

There it was again, that tone when she said his name. Draco gritted his teeth, "Not to the Quidditch match," he ground out.

"Where then?" she countered, taking a defiant step forward.

"To the Hufflepuff common room."

Granger scoffed, brows knitted together, "What? What good would that do?"

"We'll infiltrate the Hufflepuff common room the same way we did Gryffindor Quidditch practice. We'll listen to all of the little badgers congratulating Diggory in all of his glory, and you'll hear him brag about how he bested the great Harry Potter. You'll see once and for all that his supposed humility is a show – an act to garner sympathy."

"Do you even know where it is, how to get in?"

"I'm a _Slytherin_ ," he said acidly, "I can figure it out. Cunning and ambition and all of that."

She scoffed again, "Right. Go on, then! As soon as you work out how to get into the common room, I'll send us back," she said, obviously thinking that he'd _never_ find the way in.

"Deal!" He would show her just how resourceful and innovative Slytherins could be. He'd make sure that her voice didn't do that _thing_ when she said his name anymore. He held out his hand for her to shake.

She grasped his proffered hand and shook once. However, the moment that her skin made contact with hers, he felt a small jolt - just like the one he felt the first time he touched her hand. This time, though, instead of staring, he jerked his hand away.

She paused for a moment, staring at her own hand, which was still held out towards him.

 _Did she feel it too?_

She quickly brushed her palm on her robes and swept past him out of the room, throwing a scornful look over her shoulder as she disappeared.

* * *

 _A/N – Hi everybody! Glad to be back after another extended absence. Sorry for the wait – things have been a bit hectic and not altogether great recently. However, I've got the next couple of chapters written, so I'm hoping to post again very soon to make up for it!_

 _As always, thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favorited, and reviewed. You're the best, and you each get virtual chocolate, on me :)_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Hermione sat by the fire in the Gryffindor common room. Ron and Harry were talking about Quidditch again, or something of the sort. She wasn't really paying attention. She was actually downright ignoring them as she desperately tried to catch up on her homework. Well, technically, she was still ahead of her current assignments - but she was way behind considering her usual standards. Normally, by this time in the year, she would have read each of her texts at least twice through and also checked out any related books in the library. So far, however, she was only halfway through her second go on her textbooks, and she hadn't had any extra time for additional research.

Plus, she only had a limited time to accomplish everything she wanted to do.

Malfoy had left a scrap of parchment on his desk that afternoon, subtly gesturing to it before sweeping out of the classroom. She'd picked it up nonchalantly and found it only held a simple mark: one small, horizontal line intersecting with a longer, vertical one, almost creating a backwards "L".

She'd only puzzled over it for a minute before deciphering the begrudgingly clever code. The two small lines represented _clock hands_ * that pointed to nine o'clock. She guessed that Malfoy wanted to meet in her secret classroom at that time tonight.

Had he found something? Had he _really_ discovered how to get into the Hufflepuff common room? Her stomach did a sickening swoop at the thought of breaking more school rules for Malfoy's sake. Why did she have to go and call his bluff like that?

Then she thought of the pig-headed sneer he wore when denouncing Cedric's nature, and she set her jaw stubbornly. She would show him.

Her original goal of berating Malfoy for his treatment of Harry had admittedly gotten a bit off track. She knew she'd let him get to her, but she couldn't help reacting to his taunts. Especially about Cedric.

Cedric had always seemed so thoughtful and kind, with an easy smile always present. From what she was able to glean, he was quite intelligent, too (she'd heard a couple of Ravenclaws gushing over him). Not to mention he was incredibly handsome. With his strong jawline and brown hair that had a habit of falling over his grey eyes... He'd probably never even notice Hermione, but that didn't stop her heart from fluttering whenever she saw him.

Hermione was jerked from her thoughts by Ron saying loudly, "He'd be _fine_ if he didn't have to worry about that orange monster trying to eat him every five minutes!"

Hermione looked up, confused.

"What?"

"Scabbers! He's not doing well. Haven't you been listening at all, Hermione?"

Hermione gave him a dry look and gestured to her piece of the table, which was covered in books.

Ron's blue eyes narrowed, "Well, for your information, Scabbers is worse than ever. Even the Rat Tonic I bought him doesn't seem to be doing anything. He's too stressed! He's trembling in my pocket right now, terrified of your mangy cat!"

Hermione glanced at Ron's shirt and caught a glimpse of the pet rat as it tried to burrow even deeper into the redhead's pocket.

"Crookshanks isn't mangy!" she began, annoyed at Ron's constant moaning about her new pet, "Scabbers is an old rat, Ronald. The witch at Magical Menagerie said so herself - she's never seen a common rat live so long! I'm sure that-"

But she was cut off by an orange blur as it leapt on Ron's lap.

"GET-OFF-OF-HIM!" Ron bellowed, kicking Crookshanks halfway across the room. There was a great deal of squeaking as Scabbers tried in vain to escape, but Ron held on tight.

"There's something wrong with that thing, Hermione!" Ron yelled at her, "He _heard_ me say that Scabbers was in my pocket! You'd better start keeping that - that _beast_ AWAY from me and my pet!"

"It's not _my_ fault, Ronald! It's his _instinct_ , and-"

"I don't care WHAT it is, lock the thing up if you have to!" he retorted furiously.

Harry, who had been looking helplessly back and forth between his two friends as they spat angrily at each other, opened his mouth to say something.

Hermione didn't even give him a chance to try and calm them down; she just began tossing her books haphazardly into her bag.

"Where are you going?!" demanded the red-faced redhead.

"TO THE LIBRARY!" Hermione screeched.

Ron opened his mouth to yell at her a bit more, but Hermione didn't hear any of it. She gathered up Crookshanks and practically jumped out of the portrait hole, book-laden bag and all, then stomped off down the hall.

It was almost nine o'clock anyways, so she made her way huffily to her secret room.

Thank Merlin, Malfoy wasn't there when she arrived. She needed a few minutes to calm down, or there was no way she'd be able to survive the night without exploding.

She placed her bag down by the door and sat on the window ledge, drawing Crookshanks close to her chest. _Deep breaths_ , she told herself. The orange cat began to purr as she petted him absent-mindedly, only pausing her motions every so often to wipe at her cheeks.

By the time Malfoy came sauntering into the room, Hermione had successfully managed to calm herself down.

It was fortunate that she did, it turned out, because Malfoy wasn't there for five seconds before drawling insufferably, "Do you remember me telling you about my vast cunning and cleverness?"

Hermione lifted her eyes up to the ceiling and heaved a dramatic sigh, "Do explain, Malfoy. You're going to tell me whether I want you to or not."

"I f- What in Merlin's name is _that_?"

Hermione looked around, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she asked, "What?"

"That _thing_ you're holding!" he said, pointing at the cat curled in her lap.

"Oh, Crookshanks? He's my cat," she replied warily.

Malfoy's eyes went wide, "That's not a _cat_ , that's a-"

But Hermione had had enough. She held up her hand and barked bossily, "I'll thank you not to say anything ill about my pet, Malfoy! I've had quite enough of that tonight from _Ronald_ ; I won't have it from you too! Now, unless you want me to walk right back out that door, tell my why it is you're so clever. I know you're dying to spit it out!"

Malfoy watched the cat as it jumped off Hermione's lap, apparently displeased that it was no longer getting its ears scratched. For a moment, he looked like he might say something else despite Hermione's warning. But then he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest, examining his cuticles lazily.

"Oh, it's nothing really. It's just that I've found it," he said, eyes flicking up to meet hers, "I found the way in."

Hermione stared that him for a moment.

"...You actually found it?"

He looked as if he was trying, and failing, to stifle a very proud smile.

"You found the way in to the Hufflepuff Common room?" she asked again.

The Slytherin practically preened at her.

"You didn't!" she blurted, disbelieving.

"I _did_ , actually," he drawled pompously.

She stared at him a moment before demanding, "Show me."

Malfoy's hand twitched forward before he simply jerked his head towards the door.

Crookshanks darted out from behind a stack of desks, apparently ready to leave as well. He gave Malfoy a curious sniff before darting out the door the second it opened wide enough. Hermione and Malfoy followed.

They crept silently through corridors and down staircases, Malfoy leading the way. Eventually, they came to a stretch of hallway that held a painting of a bowl of fruit on one wall and a small stack of barrels on the other.

"Is this it?" Hermione whispered, disbelief plain in her voice.

Malfoy sneered at her then took out his wand and made a show of rolling up the sleeve on his uninjured arm. Hermione rolled her eyes; he was so _dramatic._

"Watch and learn, Granger," he whispered. Extending his wand arm, he tapped out a rhythm on one of the barrels: _tap-TAP tap-TAP-tap-tap._

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, a large stream of foul-smelling liquid spewed out of the barrel, completely drenching Malfoy. The blond darted back, sputtering and coughing and spitting.

Hermione, who had just barely jumped out of the way in time, doubled over in silent giggles.

" _URGH!"_ Malfoy hissed, spitting again, " _Vinegar!"_

His outburst only increased Hermione's hysteria, and she felt she might crack a rib at the effort of keeping her laughter from tumbling out of her.

Malfoy muttered a quick, " _Scourgify!"_ before scowling at the Gryffindor, "Get a hold of yourself, Granger! Do you realize what will happen if we're caught out past curfew?"

It took a few moments for Hermione to finally regain control of her mirth. When she had calmed down, she managed to whisper, "What now, oh _cunning_ Slytherin?"

"Leave it, Granger!" he snapped, then he muttered to himself, "I'm certain this is the right place… I must have tapped the wrong series…"

He brandished his wand again, and tapped experimentally on the wall: _tap-TAP… tap-tap-TAP_

Hermione raised her hand to her chin and brushed her thumb along her lips as she thought. What rhythm would the Hufflepuffs choose as their password?

 _Tap…_

 _TAP-tap-tap_

Hufflepuff. Well, that was three syllables - maybe three taps? It wasn't a very long sequence. Malfoy had tapped more than that when he first tried - and failed - to enter...

"Let me try," she said quietly.

Malfoy magnanimously waved her towards the barrels, taking a large, measured step backwards.

"Be my guest."

Hermione stepped up to the barrel that spat the vinegar. Bracing herself slightly, she held out her wand: _TAP-tap, TAP-tap-tap._

Again, nothing happened for a moment.

Then, a piece of wall rolled away, revealing a small tunnel.

Hermione grinned triumphantly at Malfoy, her nose in the air.

He sneered at her.

"Yes, yes, all right. You've proven how oh-so-clever you are," he grumbled sourly, "How did you figure it out anyways?"

"Simple. It's the rhythm to 'Helga Hufflepuff'," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Of _course_ it bloody is," spat the blond as he climbed into the tunnel.

Hermione followed after him, still grinning.

 _*Shamelessly stolen from the new Tomb Raider movie._

 _A/N – Your wonderful reviews truly inspire me. Thank you for your kind words, and thank you to everyone who followed/favorited too. You are the best!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

A/N – Happy Halloween, everyone!

 _Again, nothing happened for a moment._

 _Then, a piece of wall rolled away, revealing a small tunnel._

 _Hermione grinned triumphantly at Malfoy, her nose in the air._

 _He sneered at her._

" _Yes, yes, all right. You've proven how oh-so-clever you are," he grumbled sourly, "How did you figure it out anyways?"_

" _Simple. It's the rhythm to 'Helga Hufflepuff'," she stated matter-of-factly._

" _Of course it bloody is," spat the blond as he climbed into the tunnel._

 _Hermione followed after him, still grinning._

He paused at the end of the tunnel, obviously checking that the coast was clear. Finally, he stepped out, allowing Hermione her first glimpse inside.

The room was open, with a low ceiling and lots of warm, welcoming colors. She stepped into it, then giggled softly as a hanging fern tickled her nose.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the fire, she began to pick out more details. The large mantle of the fireplace was made of beautiful, honey-colored wood, with intricate carvings of badgers frolicking along its edges. The light from the dwindling fire glinted playfully along the polished wood. She had a sudden urge to curl up in the squashy, oversized armchair that sat invitingly in front of the warm embers.

Her eyes were drawn towards another soft source of light; moonlight drifted in through circular windows that lined the top of the fireplace wall. She could barely make out blades of grass creeping up the bottom edges of the windows.

 _We must be mostly underground_ , she thought.

Turning in a slow circle, she spied a wall of shelves holding various plants – all of them dotted with a lively green that spoke of new growth and tender care. They were stunning. She sighed contentedly.

It was so peaceful here. So inviting. She could stay in this room for hours, studying happily while the low-hanging ferns tickled her hair.

She finished her circle, facing the same way she had when she entered the common room - and saw Malfoy staring at her curiously.

She cleared her throat, then whispered, "Well, um… where should we set up?"

Malfoy only blinked, then motioned towards the far corner. She followed him as he hid behind a sprawling potted plant.

"Can't we still be seen here if someone walks up close?" she asked anxiously, her heart pumping fast. She had to crouch quite close to the blond in the small corner.

Malfoy brandished his wand again and made a few swooping motions in the air while he muttered something under his breath.

"Notice-me-not charm," he explained in response to her questioning stare.

"That's an advanced spell, Malfoy," she responded, wide-eyed.

"And your point is…?" he trailed off, making it a question.

"Nothing," she said, feigning nonchalance. She could never tell him that she was actually _impressed_ with his skill.

He seemed to understand anyways though, because a smirk blossomed on his pale features. Hermione rolled her eyes, thinking off-handedly that we would be much more attractive with a bit of extra humility.

She hadn't had much occasion to see him so close-up. His angular features and full lips bestowed an aristocratic handsomeness that was… surprisingly alluring. And there was a subtle scent clinging to him that she couldn't quite place. It was masculine, but not musky and overwhelming like some of the boys in Hogwarts preferred. It was almost… woodsy. But when would Malfoy ever venture into the forest? She ran her eyes over his face, as if searching for the answer to his mysterious scent. He really was quite, well, _attractive -_ when he wasn't smirking.

He interrupted her slightly disturbing train of thought by whispering, "Well, Granger? Are we going to sit around here all night?"

She showed him her tongue and pulled the Time-Turner out from her robes, throwing one end of the long chain around his neck.

She searched the darkness for a clock and spotted one above the entrance tunnel. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, calculating how far back she wanted to take them. After dinner would probably be the best time to find Cedric and the other Hufflepuffs here. She opened her eyes again, ignoring Malfoy's guarded gaze, and turned the dial exactly two and one-quarter rotations.

Immediately, Hermione felt as if she'd been pushed roughly backwards. She was used to the sensation of going back in time an hour or so, but she had only made one longer trip before - when she and Malfoy had spied on Quidditch. Thus, she was caught off-guard at the intensity of the sensation, and she reflexively grasped Malfoy's arm beside her to avoid losing her balance.

When the colors around them stopped swirling, she looked up to find Malfoy's pale hand holding her own tightly to his arm. A faint buzzing hummed through her skin where it made contact with the Slytherin's.

Malfoy unscrewed his eyes and looked around, not seeming to notice the contact at first. Then his eyes flicked down to their interlocked hands, and they both quickly pulled away.

Hermione wrapped her arms around her knees and peered out between the leaves of the sprawling plant.

Sunlight shone happily through the high windows behind the fireplace, and she could see the swish of feet as students walked past outside.

Other students milled about inside the common room, all dressed in black and yellow. In the center of the room sat Cedric Diggory, surrounded by the smiling faces of his friends, although his grin dwarfed the others'.

 _Well_ that _was lucky,_ Hermione thought, shifting slightly to get a better view of him.

Pieces of conversation floated to the pair hiding in the corner.

"...good lesson. Flitwick always explains things so clearly; I think Charms is my favourite subject this year," came a female voice.

"You're just saying that because he always awards you points, Teagan," laughed another girl.

"No, honestly!" said the girl, Teagan, "It's just so interesting, and so useful! Everything from levitation to summoning to just about whatever else you can think of."

"I think you should be re-sorted, Tea; you were obviously supposed to be in Ravenclaw," the second girl teased, "Flitwick alone must have awarded Hufflepuff 60 points by now because of you!"

"That's such an exaggeration…" muttered Teagan, obviously embarrassed.

"No, it's not; and it's precisely why you need to stay right here!" exclaimed another boy, "Can't have you off winning points for other houses!"

"Yeah, we need clever people like you," Cedric said. Even though he spoke quietly, his warm voice still seemed to carry.

"I actually think we have a shot at the House Cup this year!" added a boy who Hermione recognized as Justin Finch-Fletchley, "Especially with our very own star seeker!"

A few cheers erupted, and Justin shouldered Cedric jovially.

Hermione leaned forward a bit further so she could read the expression on Cedric's face.

He ducked his head, smile falling away, "I wish you wouldn't say that. Potter would have won if those… _things_ … hadn't interfered."

"We _know_ , Ced," a blond girl responded with a tired edge to her voice, "but you tried to get Madame Hooch to change the call. Even the Gryffindor Captain admitted it: we won! We _never_ win anything!"

The group cheered again, and Cedric raised his head with a half-hearted smile that was a pale shadow of its usual brilliance.

"It doesn't feel like winning to me," he insisted quietly, "I hope I get another chance to play - a chance to _really_ win."

But no one seemed to hear him. They kept laughing and joking, too swept up in their recent victory to pay attention to much else.

Hermione had heard him, though. She tore her eyes away from the boy's chiseled features to shoot a gloating smirk at Malfoy. The Slytherin only grimaced.

Hermione turned back, proud that she'd been right. And, secretly, she was also relieved that Cedric really was the kind-hearted, genuine man she thought him to be.

Hermione continued to watch him, unaware of the goofy grin that had bloomed on her face. Cedric ran his hands through his hair, head tilted down and grey eyes peeking out through his brown locks. He laughed at something one of his friends said, and the sound rang through the air.

Suddenly, Hermione became aware that she'd been staring for several minutes with a dopey grin plastered on her face. She hurriedly tried to stifle it, biting down on her bottom lip and hoping Malfoy hadn't seen.

 _Oh no…_

Shoulders hunched to prepare herself, she looked up to gauge his expression.

She'd been expecting annoyance at losing their bet, probably coupled with judgment and condescension at her obvious gawking. What she saw, though, was nothing less than raw fury.

She furrowed her brows, confused at the extreme emotion. Malfoy didn't usually express himself so openly. It was always sneering insults masking his hatred, or blank expressions when, she assumed, he was feeling vulnerable. But this… this was different. Confusing.

" _Take. Me. Back."_ he demanded in a low voice.

"Back?" she whispered.

"Or _forwards_ , whatever," he sneered.

Hermione must have still looked as bewildered as she felt, because Malfoy continued:

"We've seen what we came to see, now let's jump forwards and get the _Hell out of this place!"_

Hermione shook her head, "I can't take us forwards in time, Malfoy. Time-Turners only go _backwards_."

"You mean to tell me," he hissed, "That I'm stuck here, watching you fawn over Mr. _Perfect_ -"

"I'm _not_ fawning!"

"-until all of the little Hufflepuffs clear out?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, " _Yes!"_

"Well that's just _fucking brilliant!_ " Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, an effect that was dramatically decreased by his sling and the cramped space. Instead of looking furious and intimidating, he looked like a five-year-old having just been put in time-out for having a tantrum.

Stifling an exasperated sigh, Hermione stared angrily at the plant in front of her. He was acting like such a _child!_

No, worse. He was acting like _Ronald_. Ron was always getting angry at her for illogical reasons.

This whole thing had been Malfoy's idea in the first place! Was he really that sour over losing their bet?

But his anger was simply too disproportionate for the bet to be the only cause. Still, Hermione couldn't work out another possible explanation at the moment.

That didn't stop her from thinking about it, though. Once she locked on to a puzzle, she didn't often let go; and Draco Malfoy was extremely puzzling.

And so they both sat there, crouched behind the sprawling plant, shrouded in furious silence. They watched as, one-by-one, the Hufflepuffs dispersed. To Hermione's disappointment, Cedric was one of the first to head up to his dormitory. She noted, however, that a tiny bit of tension seemed to leave Malfoy when the brown-haired boy had gone.

Eventually, two haggard-looking fifth years made their way to their beds, leaving the common room almost completely deserted. Only the girl called Teagan remained, poring over a textbook in front of the fire.

The two hidden students had a very heated, whispered argument in which Hermione had to convince Malfoy not to simply hex the girl so they could leave. Finally, the little Hufflepuff packed up her textbook, parchment, quill, and ink, and headed towards the girls' dormitories.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief when Malfoy finally put his wand away. Her relief was short-lived, however, as next moment, she was shoved unceremoniously out from behind the plant.

" _Move_ , Granger!" Malfoy hissed, "I want to get out of this nauseating room!"

Hermione, already irritated from her fight with Ron and from dealing with the spoiled Slytherin all night, finally lost her temper.

"That's _it!"_ She screeched. Then, realizing they were still trespassing in another house's common room, she grabbed Malfoy's robes and yanked him through the exit behind her.

It was high time she gave him a piece of her mind.

 _A/N – I know, I know – we're ending on another point of contention between these two, yet again. I promise their fighting will, well, diminish soon._

 _I hope you enjoyed their foray into the Hufflepuff common room! I have a special place in my heart for this room. When I read JK's description of it for the first time, I instantly fell in love (not just because I'm a Hufflepuff). I want to go there. I want to_ live _there. But, until they make a replica of all of the common rooms for me to visit, I'll just have to write it instead._

 _As always, your reviews light up my day! Thank you so much._


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

 _Hermione let out a sigh of relief when Malfoy finally put his wand away. Her relief was short-lived, however, as next moment, she was shoved unceremoniously out from behind the plant._

" _Move, Granger!" Malfoy hissed, "I want to get out of this nauseating room!"_

 _Hermione, already irritated from her fight with Ron and from dealing with the spoiled Slytherin all night, finally lost her temper._

" _That's it!" She screeched. Then, realizing they were still trespassing in another house's common room, she grabbed Malfoy's robes and yanked him through the exit behind her._

 _It was high time she gave him a piece of her mind._

She strode through the hallways as quietly as she could while still seething furiously, practically dragging the blond behind her. She pretended not to hear the slough of insults and rude words he threw at her.

When they reached the hidden door to her classroom, she whipped out her wand (secretly savoring Malfoy's wince of fear), whacked it on the stone, and marched the blond inside.

" _You!"_ she shrieked as soon as the door shut, "You are the most selfish, illogical git I've ever met! What makes you think that you have the right to push me around, to treat me the way you do?!"

"You-" Malfoy began, but she interrupted him.

"And don't you say a _word_ about blood purity! If you dare tell me it's because I'm a - a _mudblood_ ," she spat the word out like a cockroach cluster, "-it will be the last thing you _ever say!_ "

"I was just trying to stop you _fawning_ over that bloody Hufflepuff!"

Hermione stomped her foot, "For the last time, I was _not_ fawning!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "Oh, please! You do realize that you were sighing about every three seconds, staring cow-eyed at that idiot? Honestly, I don't see how you, of all people, could fancy someone that thick!"

"So now Cedric's thick, is he? I think I see what's going on here, Malfoy," she leveled an accusatory finger at him, "You're _jealous!_ "

" _Jealous?_ I don't care about your horrid taste in men- I mean to say, _I_ certainly don't want _your-_ " Malfoy sputtered, face going uncharacteristically red before he managed to snap,"Why would I be jealous over - _you_?! _"_

Hermione covered her momentary hurt by rolling her eyes, "Who's thick _now?_ You're jealous of _Cedric_ because you know, deep down in that black little heart of yours, that you'll never measure up to someone as good and decent as he is!"

Malfoy looked outraged.

"Listen here, you _filth-"_

-but Hermione had had quite enough.

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ "

The blond's uninjured arm snapped to his side, and his legs zipped together. Unable to move to keep his balance, he keeled right over and landed on the stone floor with a resounding _thwack!_

Hermione stood over him, hands planted on her hips, staring furiously through the slits of her eyes.

"You're going to sit there while I give you a piece of my mind! You're so much of a little _shite_ that you can't stand it when others show you up by being better people! It makes you feel inadequate, and so you turn to bullying. Which, by the way, I've had quite enough of! You've pushed Harry and Ron around for too long, not to mention _me!"_

To emphasize her point, she jabbed the tip of her wand into his chest.

"What have I _ever_ done to make you despise me so much, apart from merely existing?!"

She was suddenly very glad that she'd hexed the prat; even though she'd asked that question, she wasn't sure she really wanted to hear his answer.

"I had thought that after the fiasco with the Whomping Willow you wouldn't treat me like I was some kind of _filthy_ lesser being anymore. I thought that you'd started to see _me,_ apart from my Muggleborn status, maybe even _respect_ me a little! All I ever wanted was a place to-"

 _To belong_ , she thought, but couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

She took in a stuttering breath, trying to calm down a bit -

And then she heard it.

Someone was in the hallway beyond, and from the sound of it, they'd stopped directly outside the secret door.

"Oh _no!"_ she exclaimed under her breath.

She swiftly muttered the countercurse, unfreezing Malfoy who immediately scrambled backwards. He looked as if he was torn between rage and terror, but that he might start yelling regardless any moment. Hermione quickly grabbed him by the arm and, snatching her bag off the floor where she had dropped it earlier, dragged him behind the pile of battered and broken desks in the corner.

"What the _fu-"_ he began, but just then, a rectangle of light appeared on the far wall. Hermione gesticulated wildly towards it, and Malfoy's eyes widened in understanding.

"Notice-me-not charm, _now!_ " she commanded.

He muttered the charm under his breath, waving his wand frantically.

They both peered through the holes in the clump of ruined desks and watched as - Hermione, herself, entered the room.

…

 _Granger?_ Draco thought, glancing from the girl beside him to the girl who'd just entered the room.

 _She must have arrived early before we met._

The two hidden figures watched as Granger from earlier that night carried her huge, squirming cat to the window sill. She sat down, settling the giant orange fluff ball in her lap. Then she turned to look out at the grounds beyond the window.

She was… crying?

Draco gulped. He had never seen her so vulnerable before. He was used to know-it-all Granger, and he'd definitely been exposed to furious Granger - but this was altogether new.

He gazed, transfixed, as the girl swiped at her cheeks, clutching her monstrous cat to her chest like it was a lifeline. The tears made her brown eyes luminous, even in the dim light, as she stared out the window.

No, not out the window - at her own reflection in the glass.

She was staring at herself, eyebrows knitted together.

What was she thinking in that moment?

Draco had of course seen plenty of girls transfixed by their own reflections in the past. He thought of Pansy preening at herself in a mirror in the common room for all to see.

This was different. Granger was never haughty when it came to her looks - that much was obvious given her constantly unruly hair and overlarge robes. Instead of preening, the girl was studying her reflection as if it were a particularly complex arithmancy problem that she was determined to work out.

Another tear rolled down her cheek.

Draco hated to admit it, but he'd always been curious about how openly Granger displayed her emotions. She wore her heart on her sleeve, as the expression went. This, though, was entirely more than he'd ever seen of her heart. Even though he didn't entirely understand, it mesmerized him.

What had happened earlier to upset her so?

Draco glanced at the Granger who crouched next to him, close enough to touch. She was staring pointedly at the ground, ignoring his eyes on her. Even in the dim light, he could see her horrified blush.

Usually, he would rejoice at the opportunity to use such weakness against someone who had just jinxed him, but now… An unfamiliar feeling settled on his chest. It was an uneasy weight that attached itself to his rib cage, making it harder to breathe. He felt as if he wanted to curse the person who made her feel this awful.

Wait, what was he _thinking_? This was Granger, of all people. Why did he suddenly want to defend her? She didn't want nor need him fighting her battles. Hell, she'd been berating him mere moments ago for treating her like garbage. A foreign flood of guilt rushed through him as her words returned to him.

 _What have I_ ever _done to make you despise me so much, apart from merely existing?!_

Nothing. She'd done nothing.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the unwanted emotions. He returned his attention to the Granger sitting on the window sill, sniffling softly. She swiped at her eyes again, then heaved a great sigh and nestled her head in her cat's ginger fur.

For several minutes, the room was silent. Draco drank in her every minute movement: the slight tremble of her chin, the nibbling of her lower lip, the trickle of tears down her cheek.

Only her great sigh broke the silence. It was as if she'd suddenly come to some great decision, for she rolled her shoulders, straightened her back, and cleared the pained expression from her face, leaving behind only serenity. It was the most raw and beautiful thing Draco had ever seen.

Suddenly, the door opened again, revealing Draco himself.

It certainly was odd watching oneself enter the room from another angle. It was even odder hearing oneself speak.

"Do you remember me telling you about my vast cunning and cleverness?"

This time, watching everything from the dark corner, Draco didn't miss Granger rolling her eyes. He also didn't miss the way her lips quirked up on one side. Trying not to smile.

She heaved a dramatic sigh, "Do explain, Malfoy. You're going to tell me whether I want you to or not."

"I f- What in Merlin's name is _that_?"

"What?"

"That _thing_ you're holding!"

"Oh, Crookshanks? He's my cat."

Draco looked away from the exchange to watch the girl beside him. She had been following the two as well, but she turned to throw a small, disapproving pout at him as his earlier self spoke.

"That's not a _cat_ , that's a-"

"I'll thank you not to say anything ill about my pet, Malfoy! I've had quite enough of that tonight from _Ronald_ ; I won't have it from you too!"

This time, Draco definitely heard the venom in her tone when she mentioned Weasley.

Earlier-that-night Granger continued, "Now, unless you want me to walk right back out that door, tell my why it is you're so clever. I know you're dying to spit it out!"

Draco watched from a different angle this time as the cat jumped off Granger's lap - and headed straight for their hiding spot.

Did notice-me-not charms work on cats?

Apparently the answer was no, as two intelligent-looking yellow eyes were suddenly staring right at him.

The cat had jumped onto the remains of a desk directly in front of Draco. Beside him, Granger was making frantic motions towards the cat, flailing her hands away from herself repeatedly, as if willing the creature to understand the gravity of the situation.

The cat merely glanced at her before leaning forward to give Draco's nose a great sniff. It looked over its shoulder at the other Draco, who was saying something smug, then turned back to stare him in the eye.

Draco had never had pets, but he was certain that this behavior was very odd.

Eyes wide with bewildered confusion, he glanced sideways at Granger, but she was still trying to shoo the cat away with increasingly violent gestures. To no avail.

Finally, eyes still fixed on Draco's, the cat let out a short puff of air through its squashed nose, bobbing its head slightly at the same time. With a flick of its bottle brush tail, it then turned and padded over towards the door. Absently, Draco realized that the other pair was about to leave.

He watched from the dark corner as the cat gave earlier-him one last perfunctory sniff before darting out into the hallway.

With that, the door finally closed, leaving the current Draco and Granger alone once more. She let out a relieved sigh, and they both managed a weak chuckle at their close call.

But the tension returned a moment later as Granger's eyes flicked over to him, then down to her hands.

She was obviously still horrified at her earlier... vulnerability.

They sat there behind the broken desks, covered by a heavy blanket of awkwardness.

"I, uh…" Granger started, obviously discomforted by the lack of conversation but not quite knowing how to break the silence.

She tried again, "I'm sorry. For my, er, jinx earlier."

Draco managed to keep his confusion from showing. Why was she apologizing? He'd been the one to push her, to mock her. Constantly. For years, without prompt. He'd probably caused dozens of instances like they'd just witnessed - he'd probably made her cry so many times…

What did she have to apologize for?

He should… even if his pride wouldn't let him, he _knew_ he should be the one...

Instead, all he managed was:

"Don't know why _you're_ apologizing."

She peered at him out of the corner of her eye. Then she shrugged and looked away, turning her nose up a bit.

"Oh, I'm not saying you didn't deserve it; I'm just saying that I shouldn't have sunk to your level."

Draco responded to her almost-playful smirk by raising an eyebrow at her. He figured - begrudgingly - that he deserved far more than being momentarily petrified and yelled at a bit. But he wasn't about to admit that.

So he settled for saying, " _My_ level? Trust me, you haven't even come _close_ to my level. Even a run-of-the-mill Slytherin would've done far worse. All I have is a bit of hearing damage from all your _screeching_."

Granger looked momentarily affronted, before she saw the angle of his lips - not quite mocking: _teasing_.

"Well, I'd be happy to continue hexing you if you think it will help," she began, the corner of her eyes crinkling in the beginnings of a smile, "Or maybe I can overlook your terrible treatment of me in exchange for another favor?"

"Well, now, I wouldn't take it _that_ far," he said in a mock serious tone as he got to his feet.

She rolled her eyes again, and Draco watched the corner of her mouth as it rose in a halfhearted attempt to stifle her smile.

She stood as well, bending down to retrieve her discarded bag.

Draco watched her, and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Was it Weasley?"

She froze with her bag halfway to her shoulder.

"What?" she asked in a small voice. She didn't turn around to look at him.

"Was it Weasley who made you… at the window earlier…?" he trailed off. He barely had enough courage to ask the question, let alone say the word "cry" out loud.

He watched her shoulders move as she took in a deep breath.

"...Yes," she said, her tone light as she busied herself with her bag again.

After a moment, she stood up straight and turned towards him, trying to appear casual.

Draco nodded. Fixing her with a teasing smirk once more, he drawled, "You know, you really could have picked your friends from better stock."

It was Granger's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Better stock? What, like you?"

"Of course!" Draco said, "I happen to think that I can top Weasley in any category if I wanted to."

Her eyes darted to the side before returning to his, and she gave him a confused look that was almost a smile.

Draco stuttered a bit as he realized the implications of his bold statement, "N-not that I'd ever _want_ to be on friendly terms with you."

"Oh. Yes, good," she said, picking subconsciously at her nails, "Because frankly, I don't think I could bear to actually be nice to a Malfoy. I think I'd be sick."

"Finally, Granger - we agree on something," he said.

He stepped towards the door only to awkwardly bump into her as she also moved to leave.

They jumped apart.

He forced his face into a sarcastically pained grimace, then held the door open for her.

She gave a nervous chuckle before stepping out into the hallway.

"Well… Goodnight, Malfoy," she said stiffly.

"Er, right. Goodnight," he responded.

She turned to leave. Draco watched her for a moment before heading in the opposite direction and making his careful way through the corridor. He furrowed his brows in bewilderment.

 _What in Merlin's name just happened?_

A/N – Merry Christmas Eve, everyone!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Hermione turned a page in the large tome she was reading. The library was quiet at the moment, which was a great relief as she had lots of reading to do. She sighed, disturbing a lock of fluffy hair which floated for a moment before falling in her eyes. She glared at it, then took a deep breath and blew it out of her face. The only thing her puff of air accomplished was to separate the strands of unruly hair, which fell straight back down and stubbornly threatened to block her entire field of vision. She huffed and nearly threw down her quill to brush the rebellious strands out of her eyes.

Someone chuckled nearby.

Hermione turned to the source of the sound and found Malfoy smirking at her, eyebrows raised.

It had been over two weeks since they snuck into the Hufflepuff common room, and they had barely seen each other. It wasn't that Hermione had been avoiding him or anything; she was simply busy with homework and essays and lying to Harry and Ron about how she was getting to her classes. She'd hardly even thought about Malfoy… except to wonder what in Merlin's name had gotten into him during their last misadventure. It was by far the weirdest interaction she'd ever had with him. He had just been so _dramatic_ \- first getting angry with her about Cedric, then pushing her, then, to Hermione's continuous humiliation, seeing her cry… then he just flipped on her. He as good as apologized to her for his behavior, though in a very Malfoy-ish way that still preserved his ample pride. Still, it was… puzzling. Not that she'd wasted any time puzzling over him, of course. She was far too busy.

But now here he was again, standing in front of her, looking like he was about to say something aggravating.

"You fighting with that mane of yours again, Granger?"

Right. Definitely aggravating, Hermione mused, although the comment somehow didn't anger her in the least.

"Hullo, Malfoy," Hermione nodded pleasantly, causing the stupid strand of hair to fall back down.

"And the hair appears to be winning."

She glared at him, lips quirked, and shot a significant look at his slicked hair, "Yes, well, at least my hair _moves_."

Malfoy's hand flew to his head as if to ensure his hair was still perfectly in place.

He frowned at Hermione's sudden laughter, which only made her laugh harder.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said with another giggle, "It's just you looked so concerned!"

"You're just jealous," he huffed haughtily.

"Right, of course," she said with the same pacifying smile she gave to Ron when he was being childish.

It didn't seem to work on Malfoy the same way, as he only narrowed his eyes in response.

She cleared her throat, and still smiling, asked, "So, Malfoy, what can I do for you?"

"What?" he asked, confused.

"I was just wondering why you're here," she said slowly, not understanding why he was confused. It wasn't as if he just wanted to _talk_ to her – that would be absurd.

"I'm here to study," he said matter-of-factly, pulling a book off the shelf at random, "Why else would I be in the library?"

"Yes, but why are you talking with _me_?"

"I can talk to whomever I please," he replied arrogantly, sitting down across from her.

"Of course you can, I just-"

"Granger, could you keep it down? I'm trying to read," he said, infuriatingly, as he opened the book.

Hermione started to protest that _he_ was actually the one interrupting _her_ studying, but she stopped short, a smug smile threatening to break out on her face.

"If you're studying, then why, pray tell, are you reading _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_ by Wilhelm Wigworthy? You aren't taking _Muggle_ Studies, are you Malfoy?"

He quickly flipped the book and inspected the title, cheeks going a bit pink.

"Er, of course not," he said, obviously floundering for an excuse.

Hermione giggled.

He composed himself a bit and began flipping through the pages before drawling, "I'm just trying to understand what could have led you to think that your hair is somehow _normal_."

Hermione snorted, "Trust me, Malfoy, my hair is an anomaly in Muggle culture as well. I've given up trying to tame it; it's not worth the struggle."

He made a show of looking at it before saying, "Obviously."

She rolled her eyes and chuckled, and he smiled in return.

They lapsed into a somewhat awkward silence.

Hermione was definitely wrong about her musings earlier. _This_ was, without a doubt, the weirdest interaction she'd ever had with Malfoy.

It was almost… friendly.

Malfoy cleared his throat and stood.

"Well, I should-"

"Right," Hermione said, " I'd better get back to, er, actually studying."

He stood and put _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_ back on the shelf.

"Later, Granger."

"Happy studying, Malfoy."

She watched him leave, only realizing she was smiling when a Hufflepuff walked by and smiled awkwardly back at her.

Quickly, she redirected her gaze to the book open in front of her.

Had Malfoy actually listened to her? Had he started seeing her as more than just a muggle-born?

It was true that, on the surface, their exchange hadn't differed terribly from the many spats they'd had before, but the underlying tone had lost its bite. This wasn't a spat as much as it was _teasing._ Light-hearted.

She couldn't be sure how, but something had definitely changed between them. And something new was blossoming in her that felt suspiciously like... hope.

…

The Great Hall could only be described as tumultuous. Students from every house were celebrating the beginning of the winter holidays. Many of them, including Draco, would board the Hogwarts Express in the morning and head home to celebrate Christmas with their families. Only a few would remain at the castle.

Draco let his eyes slide across the Hall towards the Gryffindor side, as he often did. He made sure to keep a thoroughly disapproving look on his face, one side of his nose scrunched slightly to show just the right amount of disgust. Anyone glancing at him would assume he was unconsciously sneering - habit, of course - not that he was intentionally searching out a head of particularly voluminous hair.

He found her easily, sitting next to the Weasel and across from Potter. She kept throwing anxious looks at the Scarhead like he might suddenly burst into flames. What was she upset about? Had Potter done something stupid again? Probably, but she didn't seem angry with him. She seemed concerned for him, distraught almost.

Draco found himself wishing she would look at _him_ instead of Potter.

Through a bit of stealthy eavesdropping, he knew that Granger, along with Potter and Weasley, were among those staying at Hogwarts.

This would be the last he saw of her until the new term began. Almost a month.

He looked away, returning his attention to Pansy, who was regaling the table with a rather fantastical story in which she stood up to McGonagall and said a number of unpleasant things about her parentage.

He couldn't help it if, when he rolled his eyes at the pug-nosed girl's obvious exaggeration, his eyes happened to roll in the direction of the Gryffindors.

He met Granger's gaze.

She'd already been looking at him.

Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and the look in her eyes was anxious, almost pleading.

Then it was over.

She looked down, eyes flicking towards the Weasel, then landing again on Potter's hunched form.

It might have been Draco's imagination, but he almost thought he saw a light blush on her cheeks.

…

Hermione glanced nervously at Ron, trying to give him a meaningful look. Ron, however, was splitting his focus between Harry and his own overflowing plate of food.

 _Typical_ , Hermione thought, _Even when our best friend is spiralling into a self-destructive rage, everything can be improved with a giant helping of carbohydrates._

Her annoyance with Ronald was almost completely overshadowed, however.

She watched as Harry pushed food around his plate mechanically.

The day had started out so well, too. Granted, she didn't exactly approve of Harry sneaking into Hogsmeade in his invisibility cloak, and she definitely didn't approve of that Marauders Map the twins had given him (she'd have to investigate that later), but he'd just been so excited. And she really wanted to show him around the quaint wizarding village.

And then...

Sirius Black.

Sirius Black had been Harry's _godfather_. He'd been trusted - completely - and then he betrayed his best friends and killed Peter Pettigrew.

Encountering the Minister for Magic in the Leaky Cauldron had been bad enough. But then overhearing him recounting the tale of the escaped madman to Rosmerta, and what the lunatic had done to Harry's parents…

Harry was devastated.

And angry. _So_ angry. He should have been told what really happened. Someone should have told him directly, instead of him finding out this way.

And then, strangely, she heard Malfoy's voice in her mind, from their first day back: "If it had been me, I'd want revenge."

Malfoy had known. He knew all along. Hermione looked across the hall, eyes locking on the white blond hair.

And then he was staring at her. It was as if he'd felt her gaze immediately.

She peered at him from across the hall, wishing he would have told her, hoping he wouldn't ever mention it again. For Harry's sake. If only there was a way to contact him, to ask him to meet her in her secret room that evening before he left on the train in the morning. She knew he would be going home for Christmas - he always did. But it wasn't as if she could leave him a note, even a coded one; there was no way to ensure he would get it. She still wished she could talk to him...

She shook herself a little, realizing that she'd been staring. Blushing, she refocused on her plate.

Had Ron seen?

She glanced at him quickly.

No, he was too focused on his own plate to notice.

She looked at Harry again, sighing. They just _had_ to speak to him, and preferably convince him not to do whatever reckless thing he was planning.

She resolved to talk Ron into cornering him later.

With her mind made up, she picked up her fork primly and started on her food, doing her best to ignore the blush still on her cheeks and the eyes she felt lingering on her from across the hall.

 _A/N – A little bit of fluff in the beginning, and a little choppy in the end as I tried to fill in some of the surrounding plot. There's a lot of strings to pull together here, so hopefully I pulled it off. I could easily have spent more time on this, but it's been forever since I've posted so I just wanted to get this out there!_

 _Also, this story officially has over 50 reviews! Thank you SO MUCH to all of you. You have no clue how much your kind words inspire me. Thank. You._


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Draco sat in his usual compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Crabbe and Goyle, ever present, were seated across from him. Goyle was slumped against the window, face pressing against the cool glass, a slight snore emanating from his bulky form. He shifted, upsetting a deluge of empty sweet wrappers that he and Goyle had consumed at a rather alarming rate only half an hour previously. Goyle, for his part, was still fighting the pull of sleep. His head lolled occasionally, but as soon as his massive chins would make contact with his chest, he'd jerk himself awake again.

Pansy, who was sitting next to Draco, sniffed as a handful of wrappers settled by her feet. She glanced at him surreptitiously, then back down at the trash. In what was obviously a calculated gesture, she daintily lifted her legs onto the seat and tucked her feet beneath herself, conveniently placing her in the perfect position to lean into Draco's side and rest her head on his shoulder.

Draco stiffened, but didn't protest.

Sometimes, he welcomed Pansy's attention. It was a thrilling and reassuring reminder that he was a desirable, not to mention highly pedigreed, catch. She knew it would be advantageous to be in his good graces. He was a leader. He was a _Malfoy._ He deserved to be followed.

And still, sometimes her attention was off-putting. Cloying. Although he didn't fully understand why, he sometimes found himself sneering at her advances.

Now, however, he silently welcomed them.

They were close to the platform. Not long now... What kind of mood would his father be in?

Surely, he would still be pleased with Draco.

 _You've done well, son._

His father's words from his letter had buoyed him for weeks. Draco had read and reread them, allowing them to warm him like an expensive, down comforter. But the more he revisited the words, the clearer his father's underlying threat became: disobey me again, disappoint me again, and you'll pay.

The threat lay like a knife beneath his comforter, cold blade chasing away the warmth and leaving behind a frigid tension.

The platform came into view then. The train hissed and slowed, waking Goyle fully and making Pansy pout pitifully.

She gradually removed herself from him, covertly eyeing him as if hoping he'd protest.

Draco simply stood and looked expectantly at the two giant lumps he called friends.

Goyle followed his lead and stood, then punched Crabbe swiftly in the arm.

Crabbe jerked up and looked around, eyes wide but not entirely focused.

They both grunted out 'goodbyes' and 'see you laters'. Pansy added that she'd owl him as soon as she got home.

Draco offered a casual nod to the three of them, and made his way towards the platform.

There, through the clouds of billowing steam, Draco saw a familiar flash of blond. His father and mother stood side-by-side. His mother saw him first, and she stepped forward to greet him. Her eyes crinkled slightly with the ghost of a smile - the only outward sign of her happiness at being reunited with her son. She leant down, kissing Draco formally on the cheek.

When she stepped away, Draco glanced around her at his father. Lucius was looking on, chin raised, momentarily unreadable.

Draco took a measured step forward and inclined his head obediently.

"Father," he said.

"Draco," his father replied, nodding and allowing a small, fond smirk to appear on his lips.

"Welcome home, son."

Draco preened, his anxiety falling away. His father was in one of his good moods.

As they turned to make their way through the crowd, Lucius laid a hand on his shoulder. His grip was firm, but not painful as it had been the last time they stood before the scarlet train engine. Instead, it was guiding, almost warm.

Draco turned his smile into a familiar, superior smirk, the mirror image of his father's.

Today was going to be a _good_ day.

~.~

The three Malfoys sat in their usual places in the rich, dark dining room. In the corner, a cheerful evergreen waited patiently for the meal to conclude. It had become a tradition for the little family to decorate it the first evening of the winter holidays, right after Draco returned home.

Lucius turned a page in _The_ _Daily Prophet_.

He gave a haughty "hmph".

Narcissa, who had been cutting tiny bites of tart and eating them delicately, paused her dainty movements to look up at her husband.

"What is it, dear?"

"I'm not sure why I continue to subject myself to this rubbish," he said, giving the paper a single, emphatic shake.

Draco smirked. His father was preparing for one of his indignant speeches. They'd heard enough of them over the years that Draco knew exactly what to expect, like a dance he'd seen so many times that he'd memorized the steps. It was routine, comfortable. His father would quietly rage about the permissions allowed to their _lessers,_ and his mother would punctuate his statements with harsh condemnations offered in understated, polite tones.

Narcissa's lips puffed out in a pouty smirk, "What have they said this time?"

Lucius gave his wife a small, appreciative smile - she, too, knew the dance well, and she understood her part in it. He then turned back to the front page and read aloud:

" _Despite many sightings of the deranged criminal, Black is still at large. The Ministry received several tips back in September, including one from an astute Muggle in Dufftown. The female Muggle communicated, via a machine called a 'Telephone', with the Muggle Crime Watchers Hotline, and immediately the Ministry of Magic Witch Watchers was informed."_

Lucius huffed again, folding the _Prophet_ in half and setting it down on the massive dining table with disgust.

"Wasn't it enough that they passed Arthur Weasley's ridiculous 'Muggle Protection Act' last year? Now they're not only taking the word of one of the witless things, but they're also _praising_ it in our news?"

Narcissa lifted her chin and sniffed haughtily, "Involving Muggles in _wizarding_ matters?"

"Are we not already subjected to the presence of their magic-stealing spawn?" Lucius sneered with all the aristocratic indignance that his perfect breeding allowed.

This was the point in the dance where Draco would join in, regaling his parents with tales of humiliating mudbloods and asserting the _Malfoy superiority_ in Hogwarts corridors. Showing his parents that _he_ , at least, understood the weakness that his fellow wizards harbored, and he wouldn't stand for it either.

This time, though, as Draco listened to the familiar speech, a buck-toothed brunette came to the forefront of his mind.

"Father?" Draco asked curiously, "How _do_ Muggle-borns steal our magic?"

He was surprised that he'd never actually thought to ask before now. He'd just accepted it as fact; it was just what they _did_. ...But _how_ did they do it?

Draco's thoughts stilled instantly when he took in his father's expression.

Lucius tilted his head ever so slightly before drawling,

"Draco. If you insiston speaking about _rabble,_ then I insist you use the proper term. They're _mudbloods_ , son, not _Muggle-borns_."

Draco tensed. He replayed his question in his head, then swallowed thickly. He had veered from their comfortable dance.

"Of course, Father. With the school rules, I..." he trailed off at the look on his father's face. Determined to make up for his blunder, he continued, "...I - I forgot myself. I meant to ask how _mudbloods_ go about stealing our magic."

When his father didn't answer, he continued, "It's just my professors have never mentioned anything about the ability to obtain another wizard's powers. And if mudbloods can steal magic, why don't purebloods steal it back? Or steal from each other?"

Lucius's face was blank, except for a narrowing of his eyes that served as a potent warning, silencing his son's nervous rambling. He responded in a soft voice.

"Your... _questions..._ are dangerously close to insolence, Draco. Do you presume to doubt my word?"

Horrified, Draco opened his mouth to deny it, but he was cut off.

 _"Don't_ you dare interrupt me! Apparently you need to be reminded of why we abhor that filth. And even though I've told you this at least a thousand times, I suppose I shall have to explain it again.

"Mudbloods have always been boorish, uncultured, and hateful creatures. They covet our pure, unblemished magic, knowing they will never measure up to our immaculacy while tainted blood flows in their veins. So they siphon magic, polluting it in the process, stealing what little they can in a futile effort to prove their worth. They are but cheap imitators of our grandeur."

He paused for a moment before asking, "Now tell me, son, would you have those _filthy_ little sneak-thieves rob you of your magical inheritance?"

"Of course not, Father-"

"They seek to drain and dilute ancient Malfoy magic. Would you suffer their presence long enough to figure out _how_ that mudblood scum steals from us?"

"Never-"

"Precisely, Draco. This is why we must not sully ourselves with their presence. I taught you better than that. I have _protected_ you - since infancy - from the rabble. I have raised you to understand the importance of our purity. Our lineage. Our legacy."

Lucius leaned forward.

"Now, have I answered your... _questions_ , or are you in need of a more permanent lesson?"

Draco shook his head swiftly, "No, Father, I - I mean yes, you answered my - I understand."

Lucius continued to fix his son with a stony glare, as if deciding whether or not to pursue the subject.

Draco sat as straight as he could in the high-backed chair - the same one he had never quite managed to figure out how he was supposed to fit in.

 _Be still. Be quiet._ He recited to himself, _No more questions. Nothing to provoke him. I can fix this. I won't go fucking things up further as long as I'm still._

Abruptly, Lucius stood from the table.

Draco flinched.

"Well, I think I've lost my appetite," said Lucius. With a final glare towards his son, he added, "Narcissa, join me in the gardens."

Narcissa smiled stiffly.

"It's a lovely day. The roses near the fountain are blooming beautifully."

Lucius nodded curtly to her and lead her out the door without glancing back.

When they were out of sight, Draco slumped in his chair, allowing himself to take shuddering breaths. He blinked back the intense feeling of relief that threatened to flow down his cheeks.

How could he have been so stupid? He _knew_ his father hated to be questioned.

A tiny voice in his head whispered, _But you weren't questioning_ him… _you just wanted to understand what he said._

Draco shook his head. No, he didn't need to understand. His father said it - that should have been good enough. He had always trusted his father's word.

But the familiar, bossy voice continued, _Is it really wrong to ask simple questions? How can anyone defend their beliefs if they don't understand the logic behind them?_

He thought back to what his father had said, and, unwittingly, Granger's face floated into his mind. That little voice sounded an awful lot like hers…

He pictured her in their classes, raising her hand so high that her bum came up off her chair. She was so eager to prove herself. Well, that fit his father's description.

But then he pictured her performing complicated spells correctly on her first try. Turning in potions that even Professor Snape couldn't find a reason to criticize.

How was she a _cheap imitation_? As much as he hated to admit it, she was better than Draco was in their classes. By all accounts, she was a better witch than most purebloods he knew. She was irritatingly intelligent and fiercely talented, with a clever wit that always kept him on his toes. She was quick to master any magical challenge that had the nerve to face her.

Could that really be due to stealing power?

How could she outstrip the lot of them using only filthy, second-hand magic?

...And how did she even get into Hogwarts in the first place? She hadn't even _known_ about magic, having been sequestered in the Muggle world all her life. The heavily-enforced Statute of Secrecy made that absolutely certain. How could she have thought to steal magic from real witches and wizards when she'd never encountered them before, when she didn't even know they existed?

Draco shook his head again.

This line of thinking was… he couldn't face it. If his father was ever to find out -

 _No, no, stop it!_

He shuddered, shoving all his thoughts to the back of his mind, and fled from the dining room.

He sprinted up the grand staircase and down the corridor to the East Wing, towards his room. Towards the relative safety that his own space afforded him.

He kept shoving images of Granger away. Of her with a golden chain around her neck. Of her _saving_ him from the Whomping Willow, eyes wide and hair flying. Of her huddled behind a potted plant - so close - cheeks flushing prettily. Of her crying by the window sill, beautiful and vulnerable.

He shut his door hastily, leaning against is and panting.

He saw her apologizing to him, actually _sincerely_ apologizing. He saw her looking at him from across the Great Hall, blushing. He saw her smiling at him in the library - genuinely smiling. Guilelessly.

He flung himself into his bed, turning to his side and pulling his knees up to his chest.

How could she be filthy? How could she be nothing but envious and hateful and barbaric?

He grabbed his silk pillow and slammed it over his ears, trying to block out his thoughts.

It struck him later how ironic it was that these questions were the only thing in his life that he could never afford.

 _A/N – I know it's been a while. Life keeps making it hard to write, and even harder to tell if what I write is any good. Especially since this is my first fic, hah. I'm happy with how this chapter turned out though – I think it's important to see how… brainwash-y Lucius is. How brainwash-y the entire pureblood society is. Every time I write a scene with Lucius and Draco, I find myself humming_ Pet _by A Perfect Circle. It is… an incredibly fitting song for their relationship. Highly recommended._

 _Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read this, and a special thank you to those who have spent a few moments letting me know your thoughts and comments. This fic now has almost 60 reviews, almost 80 favorites, and 135 followers… !_

 _I am constantly grateful for your support and kindness. Just… thank you._


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